Across The Universe
by Kala Lane-Kent
Summary: On the day that we shot down the alien scout ships skimming the Earth's surface, a sixteen-year-old Lois Lane's world changed forever.
1. The World As We Knew It

**The posting schedule on this one will be every two weeks on Saturday. It will be running opposite weeks with _Heirs: Sessions_. Enjoy, all!**

**((Author's Note: What if Lois was the alien? Imagine that Jor-El's theories were accepted, and Krypton was evacuated in time to save the civilization. With the crystal technology, the Kryptonians could rebuild their lost world on an uninhabited planet. But the new planet, Krypton II, might not be an exact match, and they might have to find certain minerals somewhere else. Jor-El conveniently already knows much about this primitive, technologically backward planet called Earth…**

**If their initial approach was met with hostility by a planet full of people who'd seen too many space-invader movies, but they found something on this planet that they needed for their continued survival, the Kryptonians might choose to take human hostages back to their planet in order to keep the peace between their peoples and ours. Those hostages would have to be important to people in positions of power, such as General Sam Lane. And given the choice between sending his wife or one of his daughters off to a foreign planet, we all know whom he would choose. That's how Lois Lane winds up being the alien curiosity on Krypton II.))**

* * *

Later on, when everything seemed unreal, Lois would remind herself how it began. It had been an ordinary Thursday, and she was bored. Lois was sitting in chemistry class, paying more attention to the fact that Bill was trying to surreptitiously copy Janet's notes than to Mrs. Purcell's third explanation of the formula on the board. She was beginning to wonder idly whether she could skip her last class and sneak out early. Scott Bracewell was trying desperately to impress her, and he had a car. Maybe she could talk him into skipping and taking her to the movies. Nothing more complicated than that; no omens, no signs, no warning whatsoever that the world as she knew it was about to end.

Then the fire alarm went off. Lights flashed, sirens blared, but fire drills were a normal part of school life. Only Lois noticed that Mrs. Purcell looked worried; everyone else just got up, some complaining, some delighted that class was cut short. Normal procedure was to go outside and take roll, but the principal's voice came over the PA system, ordering everyone to proceed to the gym.

That was apparently unusual, and the other students chattered about it. Lois relaxed then; at her last school, they'd had terrorist attack drills every three months, and she'd actually been there long enough to do one. This sounded like that; gather everyone in the most defensible space, instead of outdoors and exposed. A new kind of drill explained Mrs. Purcell's anxious look, too.

Only once they were all in the gym, the usual boredom of a drill didn't take over. Two students were unaccounted for, and Lois caught several teachers with panicked looks on their faces until the pair were found in a bathroom.

Restlessness set in after ten minutes, but none of the teachers would explain. After an hour, a couple of boys tried to demand an explanation from the vice principal. Lois snuck over toward them, hoping to get a crumb of information, but they were soundly denied. And when one of them started to get loud – some jock she didn't know – two of the coaches dragged him away.

Lois had begun to feel uneasy then. She found a quiet corner and took out her cell phone (never mind that they were forbidden in class, she always carried hers), but couldn't reach her mother. Or her sister. Or, finally, her father.

They spent five hours in the gym, the student body passing from anxiety to boredom to apathy. School should have been over by then, but none of them had been released, and there was no news. When they were finally let go, most of the parents who came to pick them up were crying.

Lois' mother wasn't one of them. Lucy was sniffling, but Ella's eyes were dry. Still, she hugged her oldest daughter tightly, as if she'd been afraid never to see her again. Lois hugged her back and reached for Lucy, too.

The three Lane women stood together by Ella's car for several long moments, holding one another. Lois remembered that moment clearly. The scent of her mother's perfume mingled with Lucy's shampoo, the feel of Ella's hand stroking her hair, the way Lucy had trembled the entire time.

It was the last moment Lois could remember when she felt anything like normal, the last time she felt safe.

…

The details came later. Astronomers had been watching a number of comet-like objects in the outer reaches of the solar system for several months. The trajectory didn't seem a threat, but then one of the objects had broken away from the group and approached Earth. Lois remembered hearing about it in class, everyone excited at the prospect of a near pass by a comet.

Only instead of passing near the planet, the object had gone into orbit around it. That was highly unusual, and closer examination revealed that the object was a large crystalline structure. High-flying military planes had taken multiple images, and the proximity of the strange crystal had caused a great deal of curiosity and anxiety in many countries. Some argued that the crystal might be some strange form of alien intelligence, others thought it was a weapon, but no decision could be reached on what to do.

Then a number of smaller crystal structures detached from the main one and headed toward the planet's surface. That was when the alert had first been called, when everyone had prepared for some kind of an attack.

Some countries fired on the crystal probes and destroyed them before landing. Some waited until they landed, then sent out military detachments to capture them. Others, especially in third world areas, couldn't hinder the crystals' descent. They didn't seem hostile, and the ones that weren't captured or destroyed returned to the parent crystal within an hour.

By then a full-blown panic had begun. Everyone had seen movies in which advanced alien societies came to Earth and took over. This surveying process struck an ominous note, and the leading world powers had an emergency summit. An experimental military spacecraft was sent up to investigate the parent crystal. The experimental craft was repelled by some force that scientists couldn't quite understand and forced to land. Things were at a stalemate for a while, and then disaster occurred.

Later on, no nation would admit to having fired the missiles. There were several with the capability, and one or more of them exercised it. The parent crystal was destroyed in orbit, fragments of it burning up in the atmosphere or falling to earth as meteorites. For a brief time world leaders loudly declaimed the aggressive act, while most likely being secretly relieved that the strange crystal was gone.

And then astronomers noticed the other comet-like objects from which the crystal had come starting to change course. They were headed for Earth. The inescapable conclusion was that this was an alien fleet, and by destroying the scout craft, humanity had raised the ire of the rest of the aliens. That was when the schools let out and Lois had gone home.

The news was full of developments and plans for defending the Earth, but Lois' father never came home at all during the week it took for the giant crystals to approach Earth. That told her more than the news. It meant the military was working its top generals overtime to prepare for the threat.

The day finally came, when a swarm of those smaller crystal ships approached the Earth. Lois' family, along with many other military families, was deep inside a secure bunker on the base while it happened. Again, to her frustration, she only learned what had happened after the fact.

The ships had parked in orbit and unleashed thousands of the little survey drones. Those were too many, too fast, to shoot down, and they zipped around the planet's surface with impunity. Missiles fired at the orbiting ships were destroyed in space, the mobile drones sacrificing themselves. And then someone noticed that the drones were hovering over the missile silos and over Air Force installations. By the time the militaries of humanity mobilized to answer the new threat, the damage was done. A fine mist of crystal fragments drifted down over the weapons, and the humidity in the air caused them to grow.

By nightfall, none of Earth's nations had a functioning air force or a single ground-to-air missile. Humanity cowered in their bolt holes, expecting an invasion.

Instead they received a message. Every television, every radio, every mobile phone, almost every communications device on the planet broadcast the same thing. The man who spoke it could have passed for human, but his accent was foreign in each of the several dozen languages in which the message was delivered. Lois heard it later, and the arrogant tone chilled her as much as the words.

"People of Earth: I am Supreme Chancellor Dru-Zod of New Krypton. We came to your world in peace, seeking information about the intelligent life of your planet. Our survey drones were met with hostility, but perhaps such a primitive race as yours could be excused its ignorance. However, the wanton destruction of the Rozz VI and murder of its crew cannot be forgiven. You could have enjoyed a profitable alliance with us, people of Earth, but your own savagery has determined our course of action."

"We have nullified your power to attack our vessels. Though it is within our power to simply take that which we need from you, we wish instead to negotiate with you for certain resources which are abundant on this planet and scarce upon our own, in a manner befitting civilized beings. To do so we require some assurance that further hostilities will not be so rashly attempted."

"To that end, an unmanned ship will land upon each of the inhabited continents of your world. You will deliver to these ships a number of goodwill ambassadors selected from the families of the highest-ranking military and political leaders of the major nations of this world. The total number of these ambassadors, and from which families they shall be drawn, will be encoded upon the ships in the dominant language of each continent. After forty-eight hours, as you reckon time, the ships will return to our fleet. Any nation which refuses to comply with our most reasonable request will be treated as a hostile entity."

"The ambassadors will be brought to New Krypton and housed as guests of our prominent families. No harm will come to them so long as no further harm is done to our fleet. The transport ships will land in five hours."

…

Lois knew when she heard the message, endlessly repeated on television and the internet. Her father was the Vice Chief of Staff of the United States Army, a four-star general, a person whom only a handful of people in the entire country could say they outranked. Of course his family would be providing one of the 'goodwill ambassadors'. There was no way around it.

She was certain when he came home. He kissed her mother, hugged her sister, and to Lois' shock, hugged her as well. Both of them stiffened at the unexpected and rather unwelcome contact. The final piece clicked into place for her. Everything inside froze, not allowing any emotion to betray the flash of fear she felt. As soon as her father stepped back, taking hold of her shoulders, Lois said in an oddly flat tone, "I know. I'm the one going."

The look of horrified disbelief on her mother's face nearly ruined her resolve. "Sam, _no!_" Ella shouted, and Lucy started to cry.

"Ella, it has to be someone from my family," Sam said in that terrible dry monotone he always uses to deliver bad news. "It can't be me; they won't allow military personnel. It can't be you, Ella; I won't – _can't_ – trust your health to them. It can't be Lucy; she's _eleven_, for the love of God. And Lois-"

"And Lois is _sixteen_!" Ella fired back. "Samuel Lane, you cannot possibly agree to this!"

"They've crippled our military and delivered a very specific threat, Ella. If I won't do it, I assure you, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will come here and take one of you rather than allow the entire North American continent to get embroiled in war with an enemy that so overmatches us."

"Momma, it's okay. It really is. I'll go," Lois said again, trying to sound brave. All the little pieces of her world, the day-to-day dramas of knowing if she had her algebra homework, if Eric Patterson was going to make her tell him for the hundredth time that she wasn't going to prom with him, if Lucy was going to steal any of her Ben and Jerry's like the last time, were fading away by the instant. But she wouldn't show it, couldn't let her mother see how it affected her. She'd fight it and they'd look to her or Luce. That couldn't happen. "I always wanted to travel. I mean, how many teenagers can brag that they lived on another planet?"

Ella choked down a sob and embraced her, Lucy clinging to her big sister's side. But Lois' eyes stayed locked on her father's. He nodded slowly. "We have two days. We're already hacking their systems for data through the same route they hacked ours. I'll see to it you're given every scrap of intel we can find on them, Lois."

She nodded back. A part of her was crying out, wanting her daddy to protect her, but Lois had long ago learned to silence that whimpering child inside her.

…

The other hostages – Lois had no use for this 'ambassadors' bullshit – wept and clung to their families as the appointed hour approached. She didn't. Lois hugged her mother and her sister, her eyes dry; she'd done all her crying alone in her room at night, pressing her face into the pillow so none of them would hear the sound. And then she marched at her father's side up to the strange crystal ship waiting in a Kansas field.

She allowed no hint of her terror to show in her expression or her bearing. As much as she resented, even despised her father, Lois also took a certain bitter pride in him. And the daughter of General Lane was not going to cry. No, she was going to approach her fate with all the courage and fortitude the human race could muster.

Lois had been briefed, relentlessly, memorizing every shred of intelligence her father could lay hands on. She was privy to military secrets about the Kryptonians that three-star generals were unqualified to know. And as they walked the final few yards – without turning around, she would not look back for final glimpse of her family, _could_ not look back without bursting into shameful tears – General Lane murmured the latest intel to her in lieu of goodbyes.

"You'll be safe," he told her. "They are not a violent people, Lois; you could probably take down half a dozen of them, if not for their robotics technology. They abhor personal contact, and even then mostly on ceremonial occasions. Some plague in their past left them phobic of contamination; for them, a handshake is an intolerable intimacy. Not even married couples customarily touch one another. And everything we've found about this 'guest' arrangement shows it to be exactly that. They plan on housing you in the homes of their highest-ranking and most illustrious people. Some of them think that by doing so, even we barbarians can be taught a measure of civilization."

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl at that, this tall broad-shouldered granite-faced man whom she had never been able to please, not from the very moment of her birth. "They don't understand us, not in the slightest. They think we'll take this meekly, let them take our spouses and children away from us. They're wrong. We will never cease trying to get you back – and I know you will remember you are a prisoner among hostile forces."

They were nearly at the ship, a faintly glowing golden-white structure sitting incongruously among flattened corn stalks. It was much larger than it seemed from afar, and bright lights spilled down the ramp toward which Lois was inexorably approaching. Lois looked straight ahead until her father's hand caught her shoulder and turned her to him. "Lois."

"Yes, sir?" Manners were expected in the Lane house, but she could shade the simple syllable 'sir' with enough contempt to render it coarser than any profanity. Then, though, her voice was neutral, clipped, everything wrapped down tight around the core of sheer terror howling like a tornado within her.

"I wouldn't wish this on anyone, on any parent, on any child. It's the cruelest choice anyone can make. But if someone has to walk into enemy territory with their head held high and show these aliens what dignity and courage mean, then I'm glad it's you representing us. Do you understand?"

At that moment, as she walked unbowed to what could easily be certain death or lifelong imprisonment on a foreign, hostile world, _then_ he chose to be proud of her. Lois felt herself start to shudder, but controlled it. She would _not_ break down. "I understand, sir." Without another word, she turned away from him and boarded the ship that would take her to her fate.


	2. The Stranger In My House

**The next installment is here! **

**Special thanks to our EXTRAORDINARY beta, saavikam77, who actually managed to squeak this guy in amongst an insane week. WE LOVE YOU, honey! *tacklesnuggles***

* * *

This course of action was unwise bordering on ruinous, and Jor-El had argued vociferously against it – both publicly, in the Council, and privately, in Dru-Zod's study. To his horror, he had been soundly defeated both times. The Council followed Dru-Zod's lead, and the Rozz VI had carried one of his most trusted lieutenants. He had spoken eloquently in the Council of the need to prevent further deaths, had illustrated the means by which this would be possible, and the rest had agreed.

Only Jor-El had said that destroying a world's military capabilities and taking its people captive could only be construed as an act of war, and that they would eventually reap the consequences of such actions. Dru-Zod had merely looked at him with a faintly chiding expression, as one looks at a child who has not yet learned to reason. It had been the other councilors who had argued him down, their expressions controlled but their eyes bright with fear, grief, and anger.

After that he had gone to Dru-Zod privately. Jor-El was privileged to be among the General-turned-Chancellor's friends; together they had forced Kryptonian society out of its apathy, saving the lives of their entire race in the process. He had approached Dru-Zod earnestly and honestly, and their conversation that day was still engraved upon his memory.

"Dru-Zod, we cannot proceed upon this course," Jor-El had said.

"The Council has already voted and approved it," Dru-Zod had countered.

Jor-El had simply looked at him for a long moment. "Let us not belabor ourselves with sophistry. We are both aware that you are the sole authority of Krypton at this time; the Council is a mere formality. If you veto the measure, they will all rush to retract their votes."

"But I shall not veto it. This course of action is not only appropriate, but necessary," Dru-Zod had told him laconically.

"It is both inappropriate and beyond reason," Jor-El had insisted, not even realizing his voice was rising. "In fact, it is madness!"

Dru-Zod had not – quite – slammed his fist onto the desk between them, but it had been a near thing. His eyes had gone dark with anger, and his expression had been thunderous. "Be very careful how you speak, old friend. Very careful indeed. You do not understand these savages."

Jor-El had been truly frightened then. He himself was known to be rather more passionate about his pursuits than was acceptable, but most of the time he remembered to control himself to suit Kryptonian standards. Such an open display of fury as Dru-Zod had just shown him was considered a sign of mental instability. He had tried to reason with Dru-Zod then, telling him that the humans were so far behind Kryptonians in terms of civilization and technology that they were like children. But Kryptonian blood had been spilled, and Dru-Zod would not be swayed from his course.

Since there was no changing it, Jor-El had reluctantly given his support. He had even offered to house one of the so-called ambassadors. Looking about the group who currently awaited their new guests, he was dismayed by some of Dru-Zod's choices. Most of the other councilors looked distressed, as if dreading this prospect. A few seemed rather more interested than Jor-El preferred, as if these humans were some sort of new, fashionable pet.

He was soberly awaiting his own human visitor. Dru-Zod had decided that each host would place a small crystal necklace upon the guest's neck. It did not escape Jor-El that this required the human to bow his or her head before a Kryptonian stranger within minutes of arriving on the planet. The crystals served several functions, identification and tracking among them. Once placed, they could only be removed by someone who understood how to properly manipulate the crystals.

The humans disembarked from the ship and milled around a bit, sorting themselves out and searching for the family crests of their hosts. Jor-El studied them a moment; their typical mode of dress was bizarre to Kryptonian eyes. So many different colors, different types of fabric even, most of which had no apparent meaning in terms of rank or insignia. How unlike Kryptonian garments, which were pleasingly uniform, served a variety of functions including temperature control and protection against infectious disease, and preserved modesty as well. By contrast, many of the humans bared an absolutely indecent amount of skin. Some of the other hosts cringed at the sight, though Jor-El controlled his own reaction. It was utterly improper to have one's neck, arms, and in some cases even _legs _on view, but the humans did not know this. They dressed and acted as was appropriate for their own kind.

They'd been briefed in flight about whom to seek out. Jor-El knew he was getting a female, one who spoke the Earth language English and who hailed from the nation known as the United States, the daughter of a general. He also knew that she was the youngest of all the captives by what sounded like a significant margin; the rest were eighteen Earth years of age, considered the age of adulthood in many human societies, but Dru-Zod had saddled _him_ with a child.

A slim young woman stepped away from the crowd, looking about with a clear-eyed gaze. Most of the humans seemed disheartened and confused, but this one separated herself from the pack and walked forward boldly. Jor-El watched her, impressed by her courage, but fearing what that certainty meant for his people. Anyone who could display such fortitude at a moment like this was not going to tamely accept the restrictions of life in captivity.

To his surprise, she came directly to him, fixing him with a scornful expression. Her eyes were unlike any Kryptonian's: two-colored, each iris amber around the pupil and green around the outer rim. The strangeness of it fascinated him momentarily, before he remembered that his guest was supposed to be the youngest girl, the one who was likely cowering in the center of the group.

"I believe you may be mistaken," he told the woman politely in what he hoped was her own tongue. "I am Jor-El. There are others whose crests resemble…"

"I know. I'm Lois Lane," she said, glaring at him.

Affronted by the discourtesy – and astounded that she had the gall to interrupt him – Jor-El almost stepped back from her. He remembered that it would set a disturbing precedent, however, and merely inclined his head slightly. "Forgive me my error. I did not expect the youngest among you to be the boldest."

She looked amused at that, and Jor-El had the disturbing sensation that he was not the one in command of this encounter. The other humans were beginning to get sorted out now, and he decided to get on with this. Jor-El showed her the crystal necklace. "You have been informed of the purpose and use of this. Not only does it identify you as my guest, it can also be used to locate you anywhere on this planet's surface. You must wear it at all times or be subject to immediate imprisonment."

"I know," she replied coolly. Somewhere one of the humans was weeping softly; Jor-El felt a pang of distress at that. No Kryptonian expressed grief so publicly, but then, no Kryptonian had ever been in precisely the same situation as these poor captives.

Lois Lane was still meeting his gaze with a directness Jor-El found unsettling. He held the necklace toward her, meaning for her to incline her head. Instead she lifted her chin slightly. True, with the difference in their heights it was not strictly necessary for her to bow her head, but the symbolism of the gesture was the point of the exercise.

At the same time he found he could not bring himself to ask her to do it. This business was sordid enough without such a heavy-handed demonstration of the captives' place in Kryptonian society. So Jor-El took a half-step forward and placed the necklace around her neck, reaching around her shoulders while taking exquisite care not to touch her. They had no idea what sorts of germs the humans carried.

All the while she looked into his eyes with an expression of such utter loathing that Jor-El nearly felt compelled to tell her none of this was his idea, that he was as much forced into his role as she was into hers. But no good could come of such a revelation. There was no point to giving any of the captives hope, and for the first time Jor-El found himself wishing he had not thrown his support behind Dru-Zod's coup back on Krypton-that-was.

Perhaps if he had exposed the then-General's plans to the Council, he might have been able to convince them of the direness of the situation and achieve the salvation of their people via proper legal channels. At the time he had been convinced that the Council would never listen to reason, and that the only way to save all of their lives had been Dru-Zod's way.

Now, little though he would admit it aloud, his brother's position began to sound more reasonable. Zor-El was openly inimical toward Dru-Zod's regime, and only Jor-El's intervention had kept him from being arrested as a traitor immediately after the coup. He made no secret of his mistrust and disdain, however, and by doing so ensured that he was alienated from much of the higher-level political maneuvering. No, it was best for Jor-El to keep his doubts to himself and attempt to effect change from within. So long as Dru-Zod trusted him, it might yet be possible to sway the Chancellor by virtue of reason.

Thoroughly unnerved, Jor-El made to leave the landing field as swiftly as possible. On the way he told the girl, "I have set aside a room for you in my home. The accommodations here are not so grand as what we could have offered on Krypton-that-was, but are sufficient to our needs. I intend that you should be comfortable during your stay."

The watchful girl only continued to stare at him with her strange eyes, neither agreeing, disagreeing, nor grateful. It was only after a long moment that she gave a nod. They didn't speak further on the trip to his home; he had expected her to balk at the hovercraft, so unlike the tedious modes of transportation to which she must be accustomed, but she merely looked about her with the same wary curiosity.

The sights were still strange to Jor-El: this planet's native life had mostly been innocuous flora, the dominant one a plant with very thin, pale reddish leaves. It may have seemed similar to the grasses of Earth, but the green-tinged sky had to be disturbing to his guest. On her planet skies of that color presaged dangerous weather formations. And of course, the buildings were all of crystal, gleaming asymmetrical structures designed and positioned to capture and filter everything from sunlight to rain. Still, Lois Lane did not appear to be dismayed by all of this strangeness.

Thus far his so-called guest was nothing that Jor-El could have imagined. Poised and confident where he expected fear and confusion, silent and watchful where he expected some measure of hysteria, she seemed almost Kryptonian in her reserved manner. Yet she was not; she was an entirely unpredictable creature, and one which he was not eager to have in his home any more than she was eager to be there.

They docked at the crystal structure which housed his living quarters and laboratory. "My wife, Lara, will be meeting us," Jor-El said, and received only the same cool nod as they walked the few steps to the door. The sensors in the door recognized the approach of the master of the house, and opened as they approached.

Built entirely of crystal that illuminated the interior as well as controlled the temperature, to Jor-El's standards his current dwelling was mediocre, perhaps a bit cramped. He had seen the statistics on his guest's nation, however, and knew that this would be more living space than usual for her, and far more open, uncluttered by the sorts of trifles that seemed to clog human homes. So he waited in the entryway for her to adjust to her surroundings.

The chance to settle herself was not forthcoming. The moment they stepped in, Jor-El's son Kal-El approached them, an eager light in his eyes. Jor-El cursed himself inwardly; he had forbidden the boy to accompany him to the landing field, but had neglected to bar him from this meeting. He should have anticipated this reaction from his son, who had inherited all of the inquisitiveness present in both of his parents.

Kal-El had been a mere child when they set out from Krypton. He remembered little of his home world. His youth had been spent aboard the great transport ships as they sought a suitable planet to colonize. That harrowing journey had been immortalized by the accounts of Kryptonian historians, including Kal-El's own mother Lara, yet to the young boy it had been an adventure.

An entire generation of Kryptonians, from young adults like Kal-El down to those like Zor-El's daughter Kara who had been mere infants when they evacuated Krypton-that-was, had spent their formative years either in space or on this frontier planet, still only half terraformed to Kryptonian comforts. They were unlike their predecessors, more flexible in their thoughts and deeds, possessed of an insatiable desire to explore and to learn. Many of them, Kal-El included, had been carefully insulated by their parents against the political machinations of their elders during those times of strife and tribulation, and now existed in a state of limbo, unprepared to take up the mantle of their houses yet clearly no longer children.

In Kal-El's specific case, his voracious curiosity had fixated upon the humans. When sentient life was discovered so close to their new home, a mere solar system away, and found to resemble Kryptonians so closely that at first researchers had thought they had discovered a lost colony of their own kind, Kal-El had been fascinated. He was intrigued by all sorts of life, studying the creatures they encountered on their travels as well as the animals native to Krypton.

To study _intelligent_ life forms was his greatest wish, so of course Jor-El should have expected him here. Even as he approached, trying to keep his features composed but unable to hide his smile, Lara caught her husband's eye and sighed. Jor-El shook his head slightly and turned to the human girl, ready to make introductions.

Kal-El interrupted him before he could do so. "Father, I was under the impression we were receiving a child – a human roughly equal in years to Kara."

"As was I. Evidently humans reckon time somewhat differently than we do," Jor-El replied in their own language. "Still yourself, my son, and remember your manners."

"Yes, Father," Kal-El said, inclining his head, but his bright blue eyes never left the girl.

Switching to English, Jor-El addressed her. "Lois Lane, this is my wife, Lara, and my son, Kal-El. Lara, Kal-El, this is Lois, the daughter of General Samuel Lane."

Only then did he realize that, from the first moment Kal-El had stepped forward, the human had been looking only at him. Her strange eyes locked on his blue gaze, and her expression was one of surprise. He, meanwhile, was plainly eager to speak with her, restraining the impulse only with effort.

The two young creatures from different worlds studied each other intently, fearlessly, and Jor-El felt a tremor of unease as he contemplated their rapt attention to one another. The human girl seemed much less wary about Kal-El, as if she recognized his youth even though he was somewhat older in terms of physical development, and Kal-El himself was clearly fascinated with Lois, showing not a whit of the caution of his elders in interacting with a new and primitive race.

As Jor-El watched, trying to discern what was going on, the girl's expression changed, her eyes narrowing. She didn't quite step back from Kal-El, but her body language suddenly communicated distrust. Kal-El, who had done nothing to cause that reaction, tilted his head in confusion. Jor-El's disquiet deepened into actual worry at her abrupt reversal; there was no real way to keep his son away from this unpredictable creature, and he had no idea how their interaction would develop. Or what it would bode for the rest of the 'guests' and their hosts.


	3. Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking

**With all that's been going on lately, I'm surprised to have this one on time. We should get _Sessions_ next week and then one more _ATU_ before we leave for the New Mexico trip, but the _Sessions_ for the following week will be delayed. Don't ever say I don't keep you guys updated. ;) And you're going to LOVE the next chapter of this one. Hell, we haven't even started it yet and I'm loving our plans.**

* * *

Lois had been holding herself tensely aloof from this cold-mannered man, whom her intel indicated was a well-respected scientist. But the moment she stepped into his house, she received a shock that startled her out of her studied detachment.

She was expecting to be introduced to Jor-El's wife, but instead a handsome young man met them practically at the door. Lois had to tilt her head back slightly to meet his gaze; he was tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair falling into his bright blue eyes. And unlike everyone else she'd seen today, his expression was one of enthusiastic delight. _Wow. Just … __**wow**__._

For an instant she took him for another human; she hadn't yet seen a Kryptonian so animated. Maybe one of the few young male captives. There had been a boy or two amongst them. The girl's heart tightened for a moment. The young man's conversation with her host had none of the stilted, formal quality she'd already noted in Jor-El. Maybe she wasn't quite as alone in this as she had thought. But then she saw the peculiar silvery-white clothing that covered him, his comfort in the garments, and knew even before Jor-El introduced him that he was one of _them_. The heart that had so recently risen plummeted back into her stomach.

Still, he was … well, it sounded cliché, but he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. This one, he could knock Scott Bracewell's fancy car right out of the competition just by smiling. Lois stared up at him, unable to help it, and his blue eyes met her hazel ones with frankness and intensity, as if he found her utterly fascinating. He was a few years older than herself, perhaps.

Her thoughts were tending toward the unsafe and Lois sent herself back on the right path with a brutal reminder_. Don't be an idiot. He's not a man. He's an alien,_ she told herself harshly. Only then did it occur to her to wonder why he'd been placed in her path. The obvious answer came to mind. That delicate jaw tightened like a steel trap. Of course, put the young handsome one out as a representative. Surely he'd be more likely to win her cooperation than his dour father. _We'll change that way of thinking __**real **__quick. Nothing's __**that**__ handsome._ So thinking, she bristled at him, and turned a wary eye on Jor-El and his wife Lara. _General Lane raised no fools. Go get some bimbo to pull that crap on. Try another one__._

Introductions aside, Jor-El summarily dismissed his seemingly-errant son, who went out with a lingering glance toward Lois. That seemed to wreck her theory, but maybe the Kryptonians were just devious and subtle. Toss the eye candy in front of her, then yank him away before she can get suspicious. Except as the daughter of a three-star general, Lois could get suspicious in a nanosecond.

She nearly missed the soft voice to her right. So locked into her own thoughts, she just barely stifled a gasp of surprise when she startled. Embarrassed anger flushed her cheeks then. _Great. Just great, spygirl. Good focus there. Your alertness training is top-notch. Dad would be so proud. _"Your quarters are this way," the woman – Lara Jor-El, what a chauvinistic naming tradition – said, leading her out of the main room.

Lois watched her curiously as they made their way. Like it or not from her quick observation, she reminded Lois of her own mother, gracious and kind, and the human girl couldn't resist wondering for a moment if Lara had also learned how to let the man of the house think he was in charge while actually running everything herself.

A smile crept across her lips briefly before she banished it. That comparison bordered on treason, and Lois shook the thought out of her head. She was surrounded by enemies; if Lara seemed nice, it was either because she was trying to win Lois' trust, or because she was too weak to stand up for herself. Lois couldn't afford to think otherwise. Besides, you couldn't know someone's true nature from a few moments in their presence.

She kept her guard up, making no comment on the two rooms given to her. The décor was Spartan, but it seemed to have everything she needed. The bed was made of crystal like everything else, curiously round, and the sheets had the same metallic sheen as the clothing. Lois touched the fabric cautiously, expecting it to be stiff. Instead it was incredibly smooth, almost slippery, the texture of silk.

"The fabrics we use are all anti-microbial and temperature-stabilizing," Lara informed her. "I understand you are accustomed to more bed coverings, and we can procure additional ones if necessary, but you may find this sufficient."

Lois simply nodded, keeping silent. Lara continued as if this was to be expected, "You are free to move about the house, but you will not be able to enter the laboratory. The experiments Jor-El has in progress are sometimes quite delicate. Come here, please, and I will key the other doors to open for you."

It turned out that there was a crystal panel beside each door, and once Lara tapped a series of codes into the one in Lois' room, all Lois had to do was press her palm against it. From then on, scanning her hand would give her access to all the rooms except the lab – which made getting a look at it her first priority – and Lara moved on to showing her around the rest of the house.

The dining room was recognizable if needlessly spacious by human standards; there wouldn't be any rubbing elbows at this table. "You will be summoned at mealtimes," Lara informed her. "Your physiology is largely compatible with our own, so we will be able to share our cuisine with you, though you will need supplements of certain minerals. Of course, there will be appreciable differences in palate, but I and several others have endeavored to begin cultivation of some of the common edible plants from your world."

With that she brought Lois to the solarium, which contained a variety of plants. Most were exotic to Lois' eyes, but she also recognized certain herbs from her mother's garden, and even a tomato plant. The little touch of home threatened to wake full-blown nostalgia, but Lois curtailed it sharply. After all, unlike Ella Lane's pots of strawberries and herbs and decorative houseplants, there was no rich, welcoming smell of loam here. Everything was grown hydroponically, just water, nutrients, and sterile substrate. It fit with what she knew of Kryptonians' germ-phobia, and reminded her that nothing here was like home. Nothing.

And on the same note of germ-phobia, she would never understand the showering routine Lara detailed for her. It was the weirdest she'd ever heard of. She'd never thought she'd miss running water this much.

Over the next few days Lois began to grow familiar with the daily routines of the House of El. Being locked up inside within the range of rooms, she really didn't have a choice. Lara was a historian, and she spent most of her time in the library – a room which contained no books but instead displayed thousands of holographic recordings. Jor-El seemed to stay holed up in his laboratory except at mealtimes, although he also left the house to consult with other Kryptonians. Lois was able to gather that most meetings were conducted via transmitted holograph, but some apparently required that personal touch.

It seemed to her like Jor-El was up to something he didn't want traced, and Lois began to study him, timing his movements. No tasks of any nature had been assigned to her and that made her observations all the easier. She was slowly learning the language as she went, though, and it was incredibly frustrating not to understand what was being said around her. Although by the end of the second day, she knew enough along with reading into their tone of voice to comprehend a holographic conversation between Jor-El and his son. The elder Kryptonian was warning Kal-El to stay away from the house. "She needs time," he argued, and Lois took that to mean herself.

What did she need time for, anyway? Time to relax and trust them? Not likely. Every passing day made her more and more tense. She had no contact with other humans – they were limiting that for the first little while – she couldn't get outside without one of them with her, and she couldn't escape the presence of her jailers. The stress never let up.

In the midst of it, Lois couldn't help longing for home. She tried to kill the nostalgia with the stern reminder that if she wasn't here, Momma or Lucy would be, but her heart wouldn't listen to logic. By the third day she even missed her father's lectures and would've welcomed a full-force General Lane dressing-down. With nothing else to focus on other than tracking the movement of the enemy, thoughts of her former life lingered and re-enforced her efforts.

Little things started to get on her nerves. The way the light was always just _slightly_ too bright, like her entire world had become an overexposed photograph. The perfect sterility of this house, which could never be anything like a home without a few scuffs and stains to give it character. The silence grew oppressive; Kryptonian music favored unfamiliar harmonies, so Lois preferred to go without it, and the solemn nature of her 'hosts' lent themselves to much quiet reflection. Committing murder would be a small price to pay for one of her rock albums. Just the thought of the Kryptonians' reaction to the classics like Jagger or Bowie made her heart just a little lighter for a few moments.

The worst, cruelest torture was all of the things that reminded her of home at first glance, but not quite. One of the common spices tasted a lot like cinnamon, but with a strange, almost salty, note, and Lois couldn't adjust to the flavor. Even when Lara tried, with every evidence of kindness, to make their foreign dishes more familiar, the contrast only reminded Lois how far she was from the simple pleasures of a pizza or a hamburger. That, in itself, was why Lara wasn't her primary target. Her attempts to please her, combined with the occasional wistful smile, made it just too hard to actively pursue. Besides which, it wasn't like Lara was closely involved with the government. Or at least that's what she told herself. If it came down to it, though, she'd steal whoever's secrets she had to.

It hurt to see the way that Jor-El and Lara looked at each other with such light and love in their expressions, so like Momma and the General on their best days. But unlike her parents, the Kryptonians never kissed, never touched, other than the occasional brush of hands. And even that, when they realized she'd seen it, they both pulled back abruptly as if they'd been caught in some sordid behavior. The lack of touch made it seem like there was no real warmth between them, and Lois found herself longing for the way her parents were, for the way her father would hold her mother and drop a gentle kiss on her shoulder, for the way Momma would run her fingers through the General's close-cropped hair and smile at him. It was singularly weird to miss the very things that used to make her gag at her parents' mushiness.

She missed Lucy most of all: no obnoxiously cute and sweet little sister tagging at her heels, getting into her stuff, generally being a nuisance but always too adorable to be properly furious with her. A kid would've livened up the place, made it a real home, brought a little of the chaos and spontaneity that was part of life itself as Lois had always known it. As it was, Lois felt oppressed by the constant order and tranquility, smothered by serenity. And trapped. She was never afforded the opportunity to see outside the living quarters and it was giving her cabin fever of the worst stripe.

All of that translated into deep resentment of her hosts. And, if she was honest, a little fear. After all, now that they had the humans here, there was nothing to force the Kryptonians to keep their word. Despite the fact that not even Lois' paranoia could misconstrue Jor-El's or Lara's actions as threatening, she still refused to let down her guard. _Enemy territory,_ she told herself each morning on waking up.

So she redoubled her efforts to figure out what Jor-El was up to, shadowing his steps, watching him carefully for any clues he might let slip. It never occurred to her that _she_ might be unnerving _him_ until the moment when he turned, saw her, and actually flinched.

_He's afraid of me._ The thought dawned on Lois slowly. _Of course. We're the primitives, the savages. They fear touch, and we have all kinds of hand-to-hand combat skills. I could probably hurt him, badly, if I tried. They'd kill me for it, or something worse, but it wouldn't matter to him._

The realization gave her a feeling of vicious triumph, and it was with mean-spirited glee that Lois let Jor-El see her hanging about a little more often. It was nice to feel as though she had the upper hand for once. She set out to exploit the advantage, hoping to have something to report when she was next allowed to speak with her own kind.

For the same reason, Lois also redoubled her efforts to get into his lab. Other people's secrets had always fascinated her, and she simply could not leave any mystery alone. Her parents had stopped keeping her birthday and Christmas gifts in the house years ago, as no precautions were sufficient to stop her from finding them.

This was no prankish whim, though, no mere curiosity. This was potentially a matter of life and death, and Lois took it extremely seriously. Which was why, when she decided to take a closer look at the entry panel to see if it could be dismantled or otherwise subverted, she got just a little too focused on her task.

"Lois of the House of Lane." Jor-El's voice was sharp with reprimand when he spoke from behind her, and she bolted to her feet. She froze, blinking in shock and cursing her inattention. The white-haired scientist leveled a stern gaze on her before continuing, "I suggest you cease trying to gain access to my laboratory, as you will not be able to disable the security measures."

Lois narrowed her eyes at him. "Yet," she replied coldly.

Jor-El sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Regardless, you shall soon be beyond the reach of temptation. The decision was made this afternoon. As you are so clearly uncomfortable here, I am transferring you to the custody of my son, Kal-El."

_Ohhh, shit. Maybe I should have handled this different._ _Can he even __**do**__ that?_ She could only stare at him with wide hazel eyes, wondering exactly what that would mean in the scheme of things. Had her situation been made better or worse?


	4. A Most Fascinating Reversal of Fortune

**Seeing as how we're heading out to Orlando today and onward to New Mexico tomorrow, I figured that my parting gift would be the new chapter a day early. :D Enjoy all, let us know what you think, and we'll see you when we get home! **

* * *

Kal-El could think of nothing but the human girl, Lois Lane, from the moment he met her. Yet Jor-El was resolute, and utterly refused to allow him to visit. Likewise he refused to allow Lois Lane to leave the house, which left Kal-El with no opportunity to interact with her.

He had so many questions! The information he could discover about her world, 'Earth,' was extensive, so much so that he found himself drowning in minutiae. Meanwhile, what the Kryptonians had already collated was too superficial, concerned mostly with military and technological capabilities. What Kal-El wanted was human culture, and he could best find that with an actual human to guide him.

Since his father was being unreasonable, Kal-El could only brood upon the problem. He had always been fascinated by the development of culture. From Lara he had inherited a love of history, and from Jor-El he had come to love the scientific process of investigating, testing, discovering. To be able to apply everything he knew to a completely foreign culture, one that had never before come in contact with an advanced species, was the overriding wish of his life. A dream such as that would not even have been possible on Old Krypton, as Kal-El's generation called the world they remembered from holographic recordings. The restrictions against space travel that had existed before Chancellor Zod's rise to power meant that contact with another sentient race was extremely unlikely.

And now here he was, in the midst of wildly improbable circumstances that had aligned to grant him this opportunity, with the object of his fascination almost at hand, and Jor-El refused to allow him to even speak to her! It was terribly frustrating, and Kal-El devoted his time to trying to design a resolution to the problem.

When next he spoke with Jor-El, he had already marshaled his arguments, ready to prove point by point that the wisest course of action was to permit him to interview Lois Lane. His father's first words seemed to indicate that Jor-El was also ready to rethink his prior decision. "So my son, are you still determined to study this human?"

"Indeed, father, I am," Kal-El replied eagerly. "If you will permit me to elaborate…"

"That is unnecessary," Jor-El interrupted. "I needed only to know if your interest had waned. Since it has not, you may arrange transport for her for tomorrow morning. I will reset the tracking crystal to your signature when you arrive."

Kal-El was frozen for a few seconds, all of his careful contentions dissolving. If they were resetting the tracking crystal, that meant… "Father, you mean to transfer her to my guardianship?" he asked, hardly daring to hope.

"Yes, my son." Jor-El sighed, and his holographic image on the wall looked weary. "Lois of the House of Lane does not enjoy our hospitality, it seems. She is … discontented. I have hopes that company closer to her own age will brighten her spirits. Also, she has fixated upon the idea of gaining entrance to my laboratory, and of course I cannot permit her to do so. You at least have no delicate experiments to disturb."

Kal-El barely heard him. Jor-El was giving the human to him. He would be able to study her full-time, learn all of her habits and opinions as closely as he could ever have wished. It seemed almost unreal that his fondest wish would be granted so easily, and he felt strangely exhilarated. Kal-El took no notice of the fact that Jor-El was acquiescing not because he felt his son was worthy of this charge, but because he himself could no longer tolerate Lois Lane's presence in his house.

A sudden thought cut across his musings; he had made no preparations to house a human. He would have to see to her comfort, immediately, to soften the transition so soon after her travel to this world. "Thank you, Father," Kal-El said with all the dignity he could muster. "I shall begin preparing to receive her at once."

"See that you do," Jor-El replied, and signed off.

…

Kal-El arrived with his hovercraft at the earliest decent hour, all but crackling with nervous excitement. All of his plans up until yesterday had relied on talking with Lois Lane; he had never imagined he would actually have her living in his house. This venture suddenly became more complicated when he had to account for her comfort and safety; the human girl would be entirely _his_ responsibility. So he had spent the hours since Jor-El's pronouncement in a flurry of activity.

Now he could only hope she would feel at home. The door sensors admitted him, and Kal-El stepped directly into a disagreement between his parents. "…give her some time," Lara was saying.

"We have few other options," Jor-El replied.

"I cannot think that uprooting her again will solve anything," Lara replied, and then saw her son. "Kal-El, you are early."

He was, but not by much. "Is anything the matter?"

They glanced at each other, and Lara sighed. "I do not think this course of action is wise. But your father is correct, Lois Lane _is_ unhappy here. I do dislike seeing her so persistently dispiritedly."

"I will do my best to make her welcome," Kal-El said earnestly.

"That is all we could ask," Lara replied with a fond smile.

It was then that Lois joined them. She moved almost silently up the hall, and came to a stop just a little further away than was necessary or polite. Kal-El turned to smile at her, but she regarded them all with a serious, jaded expression. Everything about her, even the set of her shoulders, made it obvious that she regarded herself as an unwilling prisoner.

Kal-El could not help feeling disappointment. What had Jor-El said to her to make her so wary? He knew his father could be stern at times, but surely Jor-El would have known to be careful of their guest's unsettled state.

Her eyes met his, and the coldness in her gaze was painful to see. Kal-El looked down with a sigh. All of his plans had to be put aside now in favor of the single goal of gaining her trust. Meeting her gaze again, putting all of his hopes for accord between them into his expression, Kal-El said in English, "Are you ready to depart, Lois Lane?"

Her voice was low and matter-of-fact, slightly rough. "Sure, why not? One house or another. What difference does it make?" Clearly, she was as his father had claimed, unhappy and resentful of the situation she found herself in. Really, could he blame her?

"I hope that it shall make a great deal of difference," Kal-El replied gently. Something about his voice made some of the cynicism disappear from her expression, replaced by surprise. "Come. I have much to show you."

Robots carried her belongings to the hovercraft, and one of them bore a pair of Lara's plants. "Some of my Earth herbs were large enough to divide," Lara explained when she saw Kal-El's surprise. "They seem to prosper here." The gift seemed to make Lois uneasy, as did the implied hope that she would also thrive. Nor did Kal-El miss the way Lois took one final glance at his mother as they departed.

She was silent throughout the flight to Kal-El's home, constantly watching him out of the corners of her eyes. For the moment he repressed his curiosity; now was not the time to bombard her with questions. First he would let her get settled in.

His house was quite different from that of his parents, and Kal-El let Lois walk in ahead of him to observe her reaction. She halted abruptly in the main living area, wide-eyed. Kal-El smiled, waiting for it sink in. If she thought all Kryptonian homes were as spare of decoration as Jor-El's, she had a right to be surprised.

Since the discovery of the planet Earth, Kal-El had been completely fascinated, and he had quickly acquired as many artifacts and replicas thereof as was feasible. Now that he had his own human guest, he had brought in additional items to make her feel at home. Surely he was the only Kryptonian on this planet who possessed a 'coffee table' made of dark veined crystal that closely resembled wood. And just as surely he was the only one who had set his viewing panes to display images of Earth: sunset over snow-capped mountains, the sweeping curves of red sand dunes, and a peculiar image of a city street taken from high within one of the aptly-named 'skyscrapers', which perspective made it appear like a strange sort of canyon.

Murmuring directions to his own robots, which then set about storing Lois' belongings, Kal-El came to stand beside her. "What do you think?" he asked in her own tongue.

She seemed rather startled, as if seeing familiar items in this unfamiliar setting was disturbing. He had only meant to make her feel at home, and hoped he had not succeeded in merely unsettling her. "It's … nice," she finally said, but her tone sounded both amused and wary.

Well, it was best to start with small things. "I have learned some of your English, but I want to become more…" For a moment he groped for the word, then grinned at recalling it. "…fluent, yes, that is it. Toward that, let us speak your language as much as we can."

That may have been the wrong approach, although he couldn't understand why. Lois frowned a little at him then, her head tilted to the side. She simply watched him with suspicion for a long moment before asking him, "Why is it important that we do that? I'm starting to get the hang of Kryptonese. Is there a reason?"

He thought he'd been straightforward enough, but evidently not. Kal-El elaborated, remembering to give her the proper English honorific. "Your pardon, Miss Lane. I have never before had the chance to learn an entirely new language. Of course you will wish to learn Kryptonese also. Perhaps … perhaps we can devote the mornings to Kryptonese, and the afternoons to English?"

The distrustful look grew, those strange eyes on his, and she seemed to be looking for something in his face. Trying to read something she must feel she needed to know. Her brow furrowed, then she took a deep breath and sighed it out. Slowly, her expression not entirely pleased, she gave a hesitant nod. "All right. Let's do that then. It'll make it easier to understand you, at least."

"I would have you understand me, Miss Lane," Kal-El replied with complete sincerity. She only stared, and he wondered what was running through her enigmatic mind. Instead of pondering it, though, he continued, "Come, let me show you to your room." With that he led her to a spacious room in which her few belongings were already placed. Thin translucent panes of crystal allowed natural light to flood the room during the day, and Lois was familiar with the fact that the crystals making up the walls and ceiling would store solar energy and give off light and heat as necessary.

At first he simply gave her a moment to look around. Her lack of reaction was beginning to worry him; all of her senses seemed a trifle dulled, as if the fiery spirit he'd glimpsed that first day was wearing down beneath the stress of captivity. Therefore it was his duty to remove as much stress as possible.

"Now we must key the doors to admit you," he told her. She knew the routine of the coding the crystal panels already, and placed her palm against the one inside her room. It was the work of a moment, and he said brightly, "Now only you and I may enter here."

One of her dark eyebrows quirked up then and that narrow look was back in her eyes. A little of the boldness came back into her voice then. "And why would _you_ need access to my room?"

Her question surprised him at first. He opened his mouth to reply that it was his house and of course he had access to every room of it, but that was not truly a reason. It was simply a custom, and he had no especial need to uphold it. If she were truly a guest and not a prisoner, then he ought to make every effort to ensure her comfort, especially in such matters as peace of mind.

"You are correct, Miss Lane. There is no need to deprive you of privacy." He made a few changes to the panel, then stepped back. "There. Now if I come to your door, my image will be projected into the room, and you need only press this panel to admit me."

A brisk nod. And again that silence, her gaze never leaving his. There was once again that feeling that she was searching for something within his being, a tiny frown turning her lips downward. Just when he had decided that she would speak no more, Lois asked, "And what's expected of me here, if you're my 'host'? What rules are we working under? Am I still under house-arrest?"

Her questions flustered him for a moment – not so much the content as the sharply querying tone. "Ah, I … I had hoped to learn more about your world and your people. That is the only expectation I have of you. As for 'house-arrest', you should not be abroad in the city alone, but it would be my pleasure to accompany you wherever you wish to go."

Her expression made it clear that she was considering his words before she nodded again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fingers creep to curl around the silver chain that held the quartz tracking crystal around her neck and fidget with it. It seemed an unconscious gesture, but reminded him exactly where she stood. "All right, then. I understand. Is it too much to have a few minutes to adjust to all of this before we start? I'm pretty out of it for the moment."

"I had planned to give you the day to yourself, to settle in," Kal-El told her. "Please, take all the time you need. You may join me in the living area if you wish. Otherwise, I shall look for you at the midday meal." With that he bowed to her – and Earth custom denoting respect, or so his research said – and removed himself from her room.

What a strange creature she was! She appeared somewhat younger than he was, but carried herself with a confidence that made her seem his elder. Kal-El could not fathom her thought processes. He had seen her display no fear or consternation, almost as in control of her responses as a Kryptonian, yet her caution indicated that she was unsettled.

Would it be possible to befriend her, to show her that the circumstances which brought her here offered an opportunity unparalleled in the history of both their races? Or would that wariness cloud every interaction between them? Kal-El sighed, wondering what exactly he'd taken on when he accepted his father's offer.

No matter what was to come, he had taken responsibility for Lois Lane, for her health, safety, and well-being, and Kal-El never shirked his duty. Besides, no amount of sober reflection could extinguish the hope that she would one day look upon him as a friend.


	5. Restless Wind Inside A Letter Box

Maybe Lois had overestimated the potential threat she had suspected in Kal-El. For all of his proclaimed 'studies', he had no real context for any of it. Lois drew that conclusion within her first day with him. He had access to tremendous amounts of information about Earth – and she needed to let her father know that as soon as possible – but it seemed haphazardly organized at best. He tended to mix up traditions from different cultures, with amusing results.

Their first meal together was a prime example and she'd been hard-put not to raise an eyebrow at him. _What the hell is he up to? Is this some kind of test or something?_ Somehow Kal-El had gotten hold of knives, forks, and spoons, but the fork was narrow and three-pronged, the type usually used with crab. He'd also included a set of chopsticks even though none of the dishes were remotely Asian. That made her wonder how he had gotten his hands on what had to be authentic Earth utensils. Lois amused herself by using the chopsticks to eat his best approximation of fettuccine alfredo. The typical Kryptonian eating utensils she'd seen at his father's house were rather like chopsticks, so he had an advantage. She'd lived in Japan during one of her father's assignments and had acquired the knack there. Kal-El attempted to follow her example, with reasonable success, making it impossible to hide the way her lips quirked up. _Oookay, then, **that's** it. He hasn't a clue this isn't the way we normally eat it. Makes me wonder what else he has the wrong info on. _

Over the meal, which was pretty good in spite of not having that real parmesan cheese flavor and maybe a couple of herbs she couldn't place, he asked her question after question. As she chewed the first bite, it was, "Is the sauce acceptable?"

"It's good," Lois said, wondering if the robots had made this, or if he had. Most likely the robots. Kryptonians probably didn't prepare food for fear of contracting germs.

A moment later he asked, "How closely did I approximate the proper consistency of the noodles?"

His serious intensity gave her pause; Kal-El treated this like it was extraordinarily important. And the idea of him asking _her _for these things was just a little absurd. _ I'm giving cooking advice to an alien. Good thing he doesn't know I can't cook._ "It should be just a little firmer. But it's still good." _And I've never seen anything like noodles on his father's table. How the heck did he come up with noodles?_

Kal-El nodded. "Ah. I will improve it the next time I attempt this dish. Incidentally, I understand this dish is sometimes accompanied by meat. The flesh of poultry seems popular. I regret I cannot currently offer you an authentic serving, but perhaps we can approximate something with synthesized proteins. Would that be acceptable?"

Lois wondered for a moment how the dish would taste with tofu, and decided it didn't need any interference. "Actually it's fine as it is," she told him. Brief confusion flickered across Kal-El's features until he caught up to the slang, and then he smiled.

He smiled more than any Kryptonian Lois had seen, and sadly, he had a really nice smile, the kind that made it hard to resist smiling back. Lois fought down the instinct to reciprocate his kindness. He just seemed to be making such an intense effort to please her that she couldn't help wondering what his motives were. Never mind what her instincts said, she knew too much to act as if he were her best friend.

Even if that was what he was trying to be. As the robots cleared away their plates, Kal-El changed the course of their conversation. "Miss Lane, are you content so far with my hospitality?" he asked earnestly.

Something about him reminded her of the way a lot of boys back home had behaved toward her the last couple of years, the way their eyes seemed to say 'please like me' every time they looked at her. That puppyish air thawed her a little bit. She'd always had a soft spot for the slightly oddball ones. It was endearing, within reason. It wouldn't hurt, after all, to let them _think_ they'd charmed her. But not too much, not yet. Unable to resist this time, Lois gave him a half-smile and said, "Maybe. We'll see."

His broad grin in response was either evidence of a genuine desire to make her comfortable here, or Oscar-worthy acting on his part. "I am glad to hear that. Miss Lane, as I said earlier, I have no plans for this day, so I shall leave you to your own devices. If you require anything, please make me aware of it. I am at your disposal." With that he rose from the table, and when she stood up he bowed to her again.

She once again hid her smile and bowed back before taking her leave. Wrong culture, but the sentiment was clear enough, and it was nice to be treated with respect. Lara had been kind, but their every interaction seemed tinged with worry. And Jor-El had been standoffish and nervous. At least Kal-El was, by all indications, unafraid and interested…

That train of thought bordered on treason, and Lois checked it sharply. She was going to have to watch herself around this one. He was so disarmingly earnest that she kept forgetting he wasn't human. _He is the __**enemy**__, Lo. For all you know all of this is an elaborate charade to see if you have any military secrets. Which, in fact, you __**do**__. So keep your mouth shut and remember no one here is your friend. Least of all him. His father is on their council, so he must be fairly close to the ruler._

The mere thought of Chancellor Zod sent chills down her spine. She remembered those icy eyes from the message, the utter contempt she'd sensed behind every word. There was a man who would grind all of humanity beneath his boot heel, given the slightest provocation, and feel no more remorse than someone squishing a bug. If Jor-El was a friend of his … if his secret projects were weapons of war… Lois shivered. No, she couldn't trust anything or anyone here.

Though it would have been nice to have one friend, one person to rely on, she had to accept that it just wasn't an option.

…

Kal-El had not attended the evening meal. He'd left a message by hologram that he had been called away to a meeting, and hoped that she would find the dinner acceptable. This time, the meal was Asian. Lois was served a very passable stir-fry by silent robots, but she would've preferred her host's presence. There was nothing incriminating in his house, nothing for her to investigate, and the only real benefit she could derive was in learning about _him_. Maybe he knew something that would be valuable to her father, when she was finally allowed to contact her home planet again. And God, she'd just used the phrase 'home planet' inside her own head without referencing a sci-fi movie. How weird was that?

The next morning he was back, and over breakfast – which was something akin to huevos rancheros, yet another culture making its appearance – he had a suggestion for her. "I would very much like to discuss Earth culture with you," Kal-El told her. "However, if you require more time to get settled, I will not trouble you further. I do understand that you have much to consider, and many things to which you need adjust."

Lois hesitated. She couldn't help reading his request as information-gathering, and she didn't want to help the Kryptonians understand Earth. If they were ignorant, then the military had the slim advantage of being able to surprise them. But if she refused to speak, he might start to wonder what secrets she was keeping. It was all too easy to imagine less pleasant methods of interrogation.

When she didn't respond immediately, Kal-El hastened to add, "If you like we could combine our discussion with a tour of the city. I would like to hear your impressions of it as well."

Lois had been trying to manufacture a way to go about this while she'd been staying with his parents, to not avail, and here he was offering it to her. And even if she wasn't plainly curious in her own right, this was the kind of strategic advantage she couldn't pass up. Who knew whether any of the other hostages were even allowed outside their hosts' homes? She nodded gravely, trying not to let her excitement show. "That will be fine," she replied, unconsciously picking up a hint of his precise diction.

Kal-El had the most infectious smile Lois had ever seen, and he hurried to arrange the trip as if worried that she would change her mind. As if she'd let a prime chance like this slip through her fingers! She again held back a chuckle as she watched him. He was the only Kryptonian she had met so far that moved at anything faster than a solemn pace. Soon enough they were in his hovercraft, and he sent it skyward for an aerial view. "So far we have only two cities established," he told her. "This is New Kryptonopolis, the capital."

Below, the red grass plain was dotted with crystal structures. There were no roads, as Kryptonians used hovercraft exclusively. There were pathways in some places, carefully paved sinuous curves. Lois peered closely; that surface seemed to be crystal also. In fact nearly everything she'd seen on this planet was built from crystals.

The paths seemed ornamental and meandering, so Lois shifted her attention to the buildings. At first glance they seemed like disorganized heaps of crystals, but she noticed a certain similarity after a moment. All of them had several large crystals facing the same direction and angle. Some buildings were larger than others, and there the crystals were correspondingly sized, but every single building had the same pattern.

A question couldn't hurt. "How come all of the buildings have that same set of crystals?"

The improper speech looked as though it threw him for a minute, but then he peered down, and smiled. "Each building is grown from seed crystals programmed to take maximum advantage of the location. The pattern you're seeing faces southeast, so those crystals must be the ones collecting and storing solar energy. At that angle they receive sunlight almost the entire day."

That answered her question but prompted more. "What do you mean, the crystals are programmed to take advantage?"

Kal-El wound up using a lot of jargon about resonances and matrices that Lois couldn't quite follow, but summed it up neatly. "Essentially, the crystals customize each home to fit its site exactly. While growing, the structure analyzes the amount of sunlight, the stability of the ground, and adapts to it automatically."

"So you never know quite what your house is going to look like until it's finished growing," Lois mused. Seemed like a weird way of doing things to her.

"On Old Krypton it was otherwise," he informed her. "Most of the planet's surface was uniformly covered in crystal, so homes could be built to plan. Here, we do not have time to minutely survey each site, so it is easier and more efficient to use the optimization programming in the crystals. How is it done on Earth?"

Lois had a general idea, but she quickly weighed the benefits of answering against the potential amount of intel she'd be giving away. "Hmm. Well, I guess you have a point. It's not like I've ever built a house. We've almost always lived on base or nearby, in housing set aside for military families. I think we pretty much survey the site, plan out the house, and then build it."

"And you seem not to use crystals except in very small-scale applications," Kal-El mused. "Do you perhaps know why so many different materials are used in building homes?"

"Some of it has to do with what's available or traditional for each region," Lois replied warily.

Kal-El nodded. When he spoke again, he was hesitant. "I had noticed that some designs seem … incongruous. Very few take advantage of solar power or reclaim rainwater. Is there some proscription against it?"

"Not really," Lois replied. "For most people, it's not something they really think about. The system they have works, and it's expensive and frustrating to upgrade." That she could safely tell him; it seemed innocuous enough.

"But even new construction often fails to use the most advanced technology available," Kal-El countered.

Caught up in a knot of wondering how much to tell him, what the ramifications of each revelation would be, Lois found it hard to explain. She picked her way through her explanation delicately. "Well … the older technology is cheaper and needs less maintenance. It's proven its effectiveness. Getting power from the city's power lines instead of solar panels means you don't have to worry about shade or storms or damage to the panels. You just flip a switch, and the power's there."

He frowned. "But many risky means are used to acquire that power. Many places we have seen huge factories burning coal, solely to provide energy. The smoke of that conflagration surely affects your air quality. Do people not know this?"

From the sounds of it, he suspected a conspiracy of misinformation, and Lois just laughed. "People know, but the old way is easier." She put a trace of bitterness in her voice at that. Lois was well aware that the energy crisis wasn't as simple as she made it sound, but she didn't need to expand on it. Let him think that humans were just old-fashioned and lazy. If he reported that, the Kryptonians might be unprepared for the cutting-edge technology the military could bring to bear.

But he'd asked enough questions for now, and she wanted to ask a few of her own. "How do you know so much about us?" Lois kept her tone light, as if she was just curious.

Kal-El grinned. "My father is on the Science Council. He was one of the first to notice the large number of radio waves emanating from your planet. They reach even here, did you know? We monitor such things, and my father was the first to suspect that radio waves coming from Earth had meaning. There were repeating patterns and other indicators that it was not merely cosmic noise, but information."

Lois remembered hearing about that somewhere, that all of the old television broadcasts were beaming off into space. Along with radio shows, and God only knew what else. Tons and tons of information scattered among the stars.

"My father was part of the committee to study your world. We soon learned that you have in abundance certain resources which this world lacks, and that prompted the Council's decision to explore your planet further. Our crystal computers were soon able to decrypt the radio signals, and then we could follow your broadcasts: music radio, television, and the internet."

"The _internet_?" Lois said, scowling. If they were browsing the internet, they could find out damn near anything they wanted to about Earth. "Who the hell is using _radio_ for internet access?"

He looked at her bemusedly. "I believe you refer to the technology as 'wifi'. It is of a shorter wavelength, and we did not know of it until we sent the exploratory drones. Once the Council realized how much data was transmitted via that method, decoding it became high priority."

That explained a lot. Everything they knew about humans came from TV, radio, and internet. No wonder Kal-El's knowledge was so broad yet so shallow. He might have been using Wikipedia or a similar resource, something that held vast amounts of information but didn't always make the connections between them perfectly clear. After all, from what he'd shown her Krypton was a monoculture. If they weren't expecting strong cultural differences between humans on different continents, they wouldn't have looked for them, couldn't begin to comprehend the dizzying breadth of human diversity.

They knew each region had its own bureaucracy, and they'd noticed different languages, but Kal-El at least had not yet figured out how to align the languages and cultures with governments and nations. It had to be confusing to them, especially if they were using the internet for information.

While Lois tried to figure out how that could be used to her advantage, Kal-El continued, "I am fortunate in that my father's position allows me to use our current connections to research human culture. Much of the information we are gathering is being examined and collated by computer, but I am able to search through the data stream as well. I find your people … fascinating, Miss Lane."

That last had the flavor of an admission, and she turned keen eyes on him. "Why?" Lois asked. If there was any dark intent behind his obsession, she needed to know it _now_. For the thousandth time she reminded herself that he was the enemy.

He took a long time to answer. "You are unlike us, though you look alike enough. Your ways are different enough to be almost incomprehensible, though there is some deep similarity between our peoples that makes it 'almost' instead of 'utterly'. I think … there is much about you to be admired." For a moment he looked as though he'd say more, but then he shook his head and the tone of his voice changed slightly, as if he was changing the topic. "None of us have ever had an opportunity like this. Neither your people nor mine have ever come in contact with another sentient race from a different world. How could I fail to be fascinated?"


	6. Observations From Within A Microcosm

**Now that we have a few of the important things established, I figured it was time to introduce more of the cast. Here's hoping this goes a little way to opening up the wider world of Krypton II for you all. :D **

* * *

Time had come again for the monthly family meal, and Lara spent the hours preceding it in the solarium. The robots were set to the task of preparing the meal, and she herself would need the serenity she found there; Jor-El and Zor-El were contentious at the best of times. In a situation like this, with Zor-El bordering upon treason in his criticism of Chancellor Zod and Jor-El a trusted advisor to the same, the brothers were more volatile than the most dangerous chemical compounds in their laboratories.

But there were compensations for the strife. When the security system announced their arrivals, Lara proceeded to the door with all seemly haste, already smiling. The holographic projections of their guests showed exactly whom she suspected: Zor-El, his wife Alura, and their daughter Kara. Lara welcomed them all into her home with genuine warmth, Jor-El arriving a moment later to add his greetings.

"We will be dining in a short time, and I expect Kal-El to join us as well," Lara said, guiding Alura and Kara into the sitting room. Jor-El and his brother headed toward the lab as was their custom.

"I will be well-pleased to see him. How have you been?" Alura asked.

"Well enough," Lara replied, with a slight smile. "And you?"

Alura smiled more broadly, her violet eyes alight. "Quite absorbed, still. Each day we learn more about the humans' languages. We live in a fascinating time, for a linguist." Ever since the first transmissions had been recorded, her particular field of study had been at the forefront. It was an exciting change; for millennia Krypton had spoken a single language, and its linguists were mainly concerned with maintaining the purity of the ancestral tongue and recording its etymology. Not until the present could they study a new living language, and to everyone's surprise the humans turned out to have several _thousand_ languages.

"For a historian, as well," Lara reminded her. But they spoke no more of that; current events were too immediate to be discussed with proper historical objectivity and both were wise enough to know so. Instead Lara looked to her blonde-haired niece, a golden miniature of Alura. "And how are your studies progressing, Kara?"

The young girl's sweet voice piped up in reply, "My report on the Clone Wars was rated first in the class by Professor Zol-Tar. He was quite impressed by the information I gathered. Thank you for helping me with the history, Aunt Lara."

"You are quite welcome." Even at the age of eight, Kara was showing herself to be very much in the tradition of the House of El in her hunger of knowledge, and it was a point of pride for all.

The small talk between them tended to center on their professions or the accomplishments of their offspring. After a while though, Alura hesitantly asked, "I understood you and Jor-El were hosting one of the humans. Had you planned to introduce her to company?"

Lara sighed. That was quite a complex situation to explain. "The human, Lois Lane, is no longer in our household. Jor-El felt she was … too inquisitive for her own safety. So she was transferred to the custody of my son last week."

"That must be … interesting," Alura said, while Kara wrinkled her nose at this talk of humans. "I hope he does not intend to bring her with him? Zor-El has been rather … strident on the subject, of late."

"Father says we should not have the humans on our planet," Kara said.

Alura chided her daughter gently. "And perhaps he is correct, but the humans _are_ here and Chancellor Zod has no plans to return them at any time in the near future, so we must make the best of the situation."

"I must confess that I found her presence unsettling," Lara admitted. There was little reason to explain specifics of the stir of emotion that their guest had brought about. "At the same time, I could empathize with her. Surely she finds everything about this world foreign and distressing. I do worry for her, and the other humans."

"I worry for them as well," Alura said quietly. A look passed between the two women, containing all the things they wouldn't speak of in front of Kara, who might unknowingly repeat anything she heard. Alura and Lara had been friends for many years and could read volumes in such a glance. They got along better than the brothers they'd married, and both of them knew their friendship was one of the few ties still binding Jor-El and Zor-El together. If not for them, the two men might have stopped speaking entirely after Chancellor Zod's coup.

Some topics were no longer entirely safe for discussion, particularly not anything critical of Chancellor Zod. That did not stop Zor-El from speaking out, and Lara knew that only Jor-El's influence had kept his brother out of trouble. As Alura had told her before, Zor-El was aware of the protection as well, and ironically it made him resent his brother more. Yet Zor-El would not rescind his principles and keep silent in the face of what only he had so far dared to call tyranny. Lara privately admired him for that, even though in the same moment she feared for him and his family.

The security system chimed, and Lara smiled in relief at the distraction. "That must be Kal-El. Our meal ought to be nearly ready, as well."

Soon enough the six of them were seated and served, Kara happily telling her cousin everything she'd learned in class. Lara watched the two of them fondly; Kal-El always made time for his young cousin, and in his patient kindness toward her Lara saw the first inklings of an excellent father. Though that certainly was years in his future, it was good to know that he would make a fine parent someday.

Jor-El and Zor-El were still in the midst of the discussion they'd been having in the laboratory. "Even if you succeed, surely the complicated nature of the process renders it useless for any large-scale application," Zor-El said.

"Perhaps, but that will not be definitively known until the small-scale prototype is working reliably and to my satisfaction," his brother replied.

Lara glanced at Alura and sighed; neither of them had any particular desire to listen to yet another debate on theoretical versus practical science. The two brothers had proven many times over that they could carry that particular discussion on for hours at a time. Fortunately Kara distracted them all by asking her cousin the question that was clearly at the forefront of her mind. "Kal-El, what is it like having a human in your home?"

Zor-El harrumphed, and Jor-El paused to see how his son would answer. After a moment's thought, Kal-El replied, "It is fascinating. Lois Lane is a particularly interesting subject of study. I believe I shall learn much from her."

Lara did not allow herself to frown, though her eyes narrowed slightly. Her son had always been passionately interested in other cultures, and she sensed the seeds of obsession in his curiosity about the girl.

Kara scowled. "But she is a _human_. How can one of them possibly teach us anything?"

Seemingly unfazed by her disparaging tone, Kal-El explained, "Her experience of the world is different from ours. That alone is reason enough to study her people. Think of the sea of information we possess about Earth, and yet there is so much we do not yet understand."

That set Kara to thinking for a moment. Her pale brow furrowed as she spoke. "But humans are thousands of years behind us in development. They are so primitive, and as vicious as the beasts of Old Krypton. What could we possibly learn from them that would justify the risk of keeping one in your home?"

Kal-El only smiled. "A fresh perspective is _always_ valuable, for it highlights the things one takes for granted. As for them being primitive, I would say that they are fairly well adapted to their own planet even if they seem terribly outdated on ours. There is certainly room for improvement, and Kryptonian technology could be extraordinarily useful to them, but her conversation is equal in sophistication to many Kryptonians."

"A sophisticated human? You may have just voiced a contradiction in terms," Zor-El interjected, arching an eyebrow.

"Perhaps. Yet the fact remains that I have more _direct_ experience with humans than you have, Uncle, which lends slightly more weight to my conclusion. You could even say that my knowledge is practical, whereas yours is theoretical."

Jor-El studied his plate carefully to avoid a grin, pleased that his son had turned Zor-El's own argument against him. Alura admonished Kara to finish her vegetables for much the same reason. Zor-El simply leaned back and regarded his nephew for a moment. "I will grant you that, Kal-El," he said at last. "However, the sample size for your data is too small to make sweeping generalizations. If your human is intellectually the equal of a Kryptonian, her existence still does not negate the widespread poverty, pollution, and warfare of her home planet. She may be able to become civilized, but her _people_ are far from it."

"I fear I must disagree," Alura put in, to the astonishment of her daughter. "My dear Zor-El, the humans have all the characteristics of civilizations. They have government by rule of law; specialization of study and division of labor; concentration of the populace in cities; and most of all, they have a continuing culture expressed in their language and their arts."

Lara added, "They are a much younger species than we are. We cannot deny them their achievements simply because they have not yet reached our level of refinement. We too were once warlike, as savage as they. It would be terribly hypocritical of us to claim that, because they are presently so primitive, humans are incapable of uplifting themselves as we did. Evolution is, after all, the aim of all life as well as of culture."

Debate around the dinner table was a common theme in Kryptonian households, this one perhaps more than most. "I suppose I must cede the point to both of you. A wise man knows when he meets superior logic and information," Zor-El said after a thoughtful moment.

Seeing a chance to drive his point further home, Kal-El added, "We are seeing their world through the lens of our culture, our experience. Of course it seems strange and frighteningly brutal to us. But to Lois, for whom that is simply the way the world works, _we_ are the strange and frightful ones."

Zor-El scoffed then, his expression skeptical. "_We_ frighten them? We are not the ones with murders occurring daily in every major city. We are not the ones fighting violent wars. We are not the ones broadcasting filth and licentiousness across every possible medium. And do not forget, they are the ones who attacked our ships without provocation. _If_ they are afraid of us, it is only because they now recognize our superior technology and understand that they cannot threaten us as they have cowed their own people."

"You have a point about technology, Uncle. But have you not seen their films?" Kal-El looked around the table at that.

"The majority of their cinema seems too indecent to pursue," Jor-El said with a frown of disapproval.

"Well, yes, there is that," Kal-El said with a quirk of his lips. "But also consider the genre they call science fiction. Most of it is laughable, true, but some of it actually predicted scientific advances years before actual science made the same leaps of innovation. Humans are somewhat accustomed to treating science fiction as future science fact."

It was Lara that spoke up this time. "Your point, my son?" She knew him well enough to see that he had a purpose to this line of questioning.

Kal-El looked each of them in the eyes. "There are a handful of films in which benign aliens visit the planet Earth. But that does not make for thrilling theater, and the entertainment industry feeds on humanity's taste for excitement. So there are many hundreds more films in which the aliens are cruel, aggressive conquerors. Since arts and culture shape one another, we should have known that the humans _expect _sentient beings from another planet to be a dangerous threat. Seen in that light, it is no surprise that they feared us from the first moment our probes reached the surface of their planet. From their perspective, the attacks were simply common sense precautions against an invading force."

Lara and Jor-El shared a look, comprised of intrigue and foreboding. Neither of them had quite realized how the initial approach had been perceived by the humans. The people of Earth did not utilize crystals to the same extent as the Kryptonians, so of course the alien craft zooming around their planet's surface would be cause for alarm.

Kal-El continued, "We made a significant error in our approach to the humans. And I cannot help but feel we are compounding instead of rectifying it. If Lois Lane, the daughter of a general, anticipates a threat from us, then what about the rest of the human ambassadors? Lois presumably has military intelligence at her disposal. The rest have only their speculation. We have only increased their fear…"

Jor-El silenced him before he could go any further. "My son, such misunderstandings will pass with time. Lois herself was never ill-treated here, even though she attempted to force entry to the laboratory on more than one occasion. She will come to understand the reasons behind our actions, and perhaps even benefit from her time among us."

His voice did not have its usual assured timbre, but only Lara noticed that. Kal-El could not know that his father was constrained in what he might say on such subjects. If Chancellor Zod got even a _hint_ of sedition from this branch of the House of El… Lara did not shiver, but she felt a chill wind on the back of her neck nonetheless.

"That is remarkable, brother," Zor-El said. Alura cut him a sharp look, but it didn't stop him from continuing once he had Jor-El's attention. "I see your mouth shaping the syllables, but I hear the words of Dru-Zod."

"I am one of the Supreme Chancellor's most trusted advisors," Jor-El replied stiffly. "And you may be certain,_ brother_, that I shall share my son's insight with him. It makes little sense, at this point, to dispute events that have already occurred. We must concern ourselves with the way forward. And you cannot deny that we could offer the humans much that would be of benefit to them. Our medical knowledge alone is worth the price of having been startled. Remember, too, that we have caused them no material harm, while they have destroyed one of our manned vessels."

Zor-El glared at him narrowly, and Alura reached out to take his hand. Such gestures were not common, not even between married couples, but the touch sufficed to stifle his retort, and she released him after a moment.

"Gentlemen, I prefer not to have politics at my table. It does not compliment the sauce," Lara said gently. All of them smiled at that particular bit of well-worn humor, but it broke the tension and allowed them to return to safer topics.

Only much later, when the guests had gone and Lara was alone with her husband once more, did they speak of it. She knew his mind, knew that he would be brooding, and went to Jor-El where he had retreated into his laboratory. Softly, Lara let her arm brush his, and he turned to her, placing his arm about her shoulders. She leaned her head against his shoulder silently.

This was an intolerable intimacy by the standards of most Kryptonians, but she was a historian and knew from whence their cultural mores came. Centuries of virulent plague had spawned their abhorrence of touch, but superior medicine had routed such things long ago. By then touch had become indecent, Kryptonian society gone cold and sterile. The vibrant sensuality of the human race was shocking, disgusting … but the desire for contact had not yet been _completely_ bred out of the sons and daughters of Krypton. Jor-El's arm around her shoulders, and the comfort she took from it, was proof of that.

"They are fools," Jor-El murmured. "Our son, at least, is a well-intentioned fool, who knows not the danger of voicing his opinions freely. And I am to blame for that, I who sheltered him from the realities of life."

"You were not the only one who sheltered him," Lara replied.

"And my brother is a fool of the highest order. He cannot see the wisdom in working within the current administration – he does not comprehend what his vision would bring about. If we were to somehow convince Dru-Zod to relinquish his office and return power to the Science Council…"

"Nothing would ever be accomplished," Lara sighed. It was painful to admit, too painful for a principled man like Jor-El to say aloud, but the democratic rule of the council nearly resulted in the death of all Kryptonians. Only Dru-Zod's coup had saved them.

But now they found themselves in a new predicament. Dru-Zod's charisma and leadership provided a clear direction for progress, and he _was_ remarkably efficient at solving all of the problems and diversions that cropped up during their settlement of this world. Yet Jor-El, who was perhaps closest to him, was uneasy, and that boded ill for all.

Jor-El dared not say to her, _He will not relinquish power. We needed him during the great crisis. Yet even when the current minor crises pass, Dru-Zod will still find reasons to rule. He is not given to surrender. The very thing we needed most from him when the sun threatened to devour Old Krypton – his determination to succeed, his refusal to accept impossibility or failure – will make him exactly the tyrant Zor-El claims him to be._

No, he could not say that to her, not even in the privacy of their own house, and that fear was the clearest indication of how far they had fallen from the ideals of Kryptonian law and government. Fortunately, as in most things, Lara understood her husband without a word.


	7. Of Crystal Fetters and Gilded Cages

**Too tired tonight to actually do an intro except to hope that this is worth the wait. :D**

* * *

The robots had just asked, for the fourteenth time, if Lois required assistance, when Kal-El finally returned. The worst part of this entire situation, if she was totally honest, was just the complete boredom. With nothing to do, nothing in any language she knew to read, no real stimulation of any sort short of interacting with her captors, it was driving her up the wall. And with him out of the house, she didn't even have that. It made her wonder how the other humans were handling things.

Just the thought of those of her own kind not being too far away brought on some unexpected melancholy. In response to that, her replies to the polite mechanical requests had been getting increasingly snide – she just wanted to _pace_, dammit, she was trapped in here by herself and had to have _some_ way to work off her tension – and the return of her 'host' was a welcome distraction. She'd begun to wonder about the possibility of taking a couple of those too-helpful robots offline.

But something in her appearance must have indicated how stir-crazy she was, because Kal-El stopped abruptly at the sight of her and asked, "Are you all right, Miss Lane?"

_Jesus Christ, give me a damn __**break**__!_ Lois gritted her teeth. "Yes, I'm _fine_. And I swear to God, if you ask me if I need assistance, I'll _strangle_ you. _I'm fine_. I just want to be left _alone_!"

She didn't mean it, of course. It was being left alone for several hours with nothing to occupy her that had caused the problem. That kind of hyperbolic threat was pretty common for a teenage girl – whenever Lucy was being a pest Lois had often threatened to tie her braids to the ceiling fan. Lucy generally screamed in mock terror and then ran away laughing, all too convinced of her older sister's love. But Kal-El took three quick steps back, eyeing her warily. And that only made Lois' current mood even more irascible.

Her frown was positively thunderous when she threw her hands up in the air and dropped heavily into the crystal chair nearest her. Lois knew she was behaving like a typical teenage girl, and didn't like it any better when she realized that her reaction was, in part, due to the fact that she was getting used to his presence. And in a way that she never had with his parents. "Oh, knock it off, I wasn't _serious_," she snapped, shoving the disturbing thought away before glaring at him. "Even if I was, let's get real. You're like a foot taller than me and built like a linebacker; I doubt I could even get both hands around your neck. What the hell would be the point? I'm just aggravated because your freaking robots won't leave me the hell alone. I can't stand feeling like I'm being stalked or something."

In any other circumstance, it would've been amusing to watch him parsing the meaning out of those slang-laden sentences. At the moment it was just a further source of infuriation. "I apologize if the robots have been too obsequious," he finally said, his eyes still wide.

He was still looking at her like she was a wild animal, something that had escaped from its cage at the zoo, and part of Lois wanted to growl and lunge at him just to see what he'd do. The thought of his shocked expression erased some of her temper, Lois fighting a sudden smile at the image in her mind. If all else failed, it would break the tension. But General Lane had raised no fools and this wasn't back home and Lucy. Any overtly aggressive move on her part would have consequences best not contemplated.

Instead she just sighed. "Relax. I'm not _that_ stupid, Kal-El."

"I never suspected you of intellectual inferiority," he replied, seeming a little less perturbed. "It is to be expected that you would find many sources of frustration during the first part of your stay with us. I promise you I will do everything in my power to alleviate that stress. Tell me, what were the robots doing that vexed you so?"

She deflated at that, frowning a bit. One of the most maddening things about the man was how hard he made it to stay aggravated with him. Once he'd dragged out of her that she'd been pacing and promised to reprogram the robots to recognize that as normal behavior, Lois had no further reason to be angry at him. The lingering irritation didn't just vanish, though, and she would have turned on her heel and left – if her whole problem hadn't been the fact that she was going stir-crazy all by herself.

So she was still feeling a bit out of sorts when Kal-El asked her, "Miss Lane, if I might ask, why were you pacing?"

It might have been wiser to dissemble, but Lois was only sixteen, and her temper was already frayed. "Because I was bored out of my skull," she snapped back. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's literally _nothing_ for me to do here. I can't work on my Kryptonese without you, I don't have any books to read, I don't know how to work the hologram viewer thing, and I'm not even allowed to go for a freaking _walk_! Not to mention I haven't seen another human being in…" She trailed off then, horrified to realize she'd lost track of how many days she'd been on New Krypton. Even worse was the flood of homesickness that washed over her. Lois bit her lower lip hard to keep from being overwhelmed. Soldiers didn't freak out, soldiers didn't cry. She could handle this. She _could_. Had to stop being a stupid hypochondriac _girl_.

Kal-El's chagrined expression matched the apologetic tone of his next words. "Your pardon, Miss Lane. I was remiss in not looking at this situation from your perspective. I shall see that it is remedied, immediately. Would you like to learn how to operate the viewing system now, or would you prefer to go out and get some … I believe the expression is 'fresh air'?"

"Out," Lois replied immediately, relieved. She was stifled in here, caged by crystalline walls. Figuring out the viewing system could wait until she shook free of that trapped feeling.

He smiled at her evident relief, and they both headed for the door. This time they didn't take the hovercraft. Instead Kal-El led her along pathways of more crushed crystal. The feel of it underfoot was strange at first; it gave slightly under pressure as each step landed, but it almost seemed to stick to the soles of her shoes for a second. The thrill of being outside overwhelmed Lois' initial misgivings, and she soon ignored the odd qualities of the paving material except to notice that it gave excellent traction in spite of appearing slick and hard.

Very few people were out walking. Most travel seemed to be via the hovercraft zooming around above. The few pedestrians they passed exchanged greetings with a nod, but none seemed to want to talk. At least not once they got a look at the crystal around Lois' neck. It took effort to stifle the resentment she felt from showing on her face. It shouldn't be a surprise, since things would have likely been the same back home.

Kal-El pointed out a few trivial things to her – a planting of rare singing flowers, abstract sculptures of hypnotic beauty, the round dome of the Council building in the distance. As she stopped to examine one of the sculptures, which looked like a waterfall from one angle, he asked her quietly, "Do you feel better now?"

From the other side, the sculpture looked almost like a stylized dancer. "Yes," Lois replied, surprised at her own answer. Just getting outside had alleviated the worst of her tension.

He beamed at her; it was ridiculously easy to make him happy, and damned difficult not to grin back. The bitterness drained away somewhat then. "Very well. I shall make time for us to take a daily constitutional, then. I, too, sometimes feel rather confined if I do not get outdoors every once in a while."

The general's voice cropped up in her head then and her mind ticked off in another direction. The military needed to know exactly what was what here if they were to bargain for the return of their people and this was the perfect opportunity to get that information for them. If she was able to get that intel to her father… Thinking quickly, Lois agreed with a meek smile, "That would probably be a good idea. I'd hate to keep you from other projects, though. Maybe I could go alone, once I get the lay of the land, to stop interruptions to your schedule."

She was watching him carefully without making it obvious, and his expression was full of conflict. "I have no higher priority at the moment, yet I understand why you might prefer time to yourself. It is difficult to find proper reflection without solitude. Still, I am afraid you might not be entirely safe on your own. There are those among my people who would …misinterpret your actions. And the consequences of that I could not even begin to guess."

Lois could, and she should have known that they would distrust the humans wholly. Imprisonment, even more restrictive than what she faced now, and some form of punishment. Kryptonians didn't go in for corporal or capital punishment, but she could easily see them using the more 'humane' alternative of solitary confinement. And that would drive her up a wall in no time flat. She tried not to seem disappointed, merely shrugging. There had to be a way to work around to his trusting her on her own.

She mused on that as they returned to Kal-El's home, turning over options in her mind. Lois wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings, until a flash of white caught her eye. She turned to look and saw that it was sunlight reflecting off a crystal worn around a young man's neck.

With a start, Lois realized that was the same type of crystal she wore. Though the young man was dressed in Kryptonian robes, he was darker skinned than their people. It dawned on her then with a surge of hope. Another human!

Homesickness swept over her, the urge to run up to that total stranger just to speak with someone who'd been born in the same solar system. He might not even understand English, but that didn't matter. She had more in common with him, wherever he'd been born, than with any of these Kryptonians.

He saw her too, and his eyes lit up. But the Kryptonian woman with him was getting into a hovercraft, and spoke sharply to him when his attention strayed. With a last longing glance at Lois, he followed her.

It felt as if she had been physically punched in the gut. All she could do was stand there in horror. The rebuke the woman had uttered sounded strangely familiar, in tone not words. And then she blanched. It was the same way her family called Caspar, their German Shepherd. They were being treated like pets. And from the looks of things, she could be considered one of the spoiled ones that was allowed on the furniture, but a pet none the less.

Sick in heart, she briskly turned to look at Kal-El, making her feelings clear in the sharp way she glared at him. Her first instinct was to run, just run. How foolish had she been to even think she could possibly have an ally in this, to think he might just understand what it was like for her here? Sneering in disgust, she looked forcefully away from him, "Take me back to my cell, okay? We'll remember the leash next time since I'm already in the collar."

"Miss Lane, I am afraid I do not understand. What has angered you?," Kal-El said, glancing from her to the departing hovercraft.

She had meant to quit after that instant of searing sarcasm, but his total bewilderment spurred her onward. "You don't get it either, do you? I thought we were prisoners, but it's worse than that. You treat us like _pets_. If I bark a little too loudly, you get all wide-eyed like I'm going to leap up and bite you. Now you have to take me for a walk every day so I won't tear up your house. We're not allowed to make our own choices, ever. You'd better keep us all from spending any time with each other, because you're trying so hard to _civilize_ us and you don't want us picking up bad habits from our own kind. And don't get too close, you don't know what kind of germs I might have!"

She stalked toward him, her voice rising, forgetting all about keeping her head down. This was just too much of an insult to be suffered silently. "We're nothing more than subhuman animals to you, aren't we? A curiosity to be examined, maybe an experiment to see if we can be trained, but not equals. You're treating us like we treat our dogs, right down to the collars we wear to let everyone know who our owners are! How long do you think it'll take you to teach me a couple of cute tricks, like speaking your language and using the TV? Better yet, how long before one of us gets 'put down' because we can't live in your world?"

Lois in the grip of anger was a force to be reckoned with, as several boys at her various schools had learned over the years. By the time she finished speaking she was glaring up at Kal-El, practically shouting in his face, and luckily no one else was in earshot at the moment. Lois was ready to throw caution completely to the winds and just slug him one if he patronized her again, her fiery temper pushed to its limit.

Kal-El looked completely stunned, but when he spoke his voice was very serious. "But you are not an unreasoning animal. You are a sentient, rational being. My family and I just debated this at dinner – I am of the mind that your species is the intellectual equal of our own, which is why I wish to learn from you."

That quiet, respectful tone, almost as if he was hurt by her accusations, silenced Lois for the moment. Kal-El continued, "As for us treating you like pets, Krypton has never had the same tradition of domesticating companion animals that you have. Most of the native creatures on Old Krypton were exceedingly large and fierce, not animals we could conceivably tame. The truth is, we have little experience with other sentient races. Space travel was forbidden on Old Krypton until it became the only possible means of survival. So we have no concept of how we ought to be treating you. I will do what I can to rectify the current problems, Miss Lane, but I fear it may not be as much as we could hope."

Which is to say that he could do nothing at all. Breath hitched in her throat. There was going to be no easy way to accomplish the task she had charged herself with and her emotions were in total upheaval. Her brows furrowed then, wanting to keep yelling but knowing it was no use. Her eyes burned. Without another word, she turned and strode away from him in the direction they had come.

After a moment, Kal-El followed her silently.

…

Lois spoke very little to Kal-El, and he kept his questions to a minimum. A pall of frost had grown over every interaction, and though he was clearly trying to win her over with kindness, Lois ignored the attempt even though she was almost certain he empathized with her. Prisoner or pet, she resented the hell out of her current situation, and she wasn't going to go out of her way to assuage her captor's guilt.

Several days had passed before he came to her while she was browsing the language education holograms. That much she had accomplished, figuring out the viewing system, and now she had a library of materials to learn from. "Miss Lane?" Kal-El said from the doorway.

"Yes?" she replied, annoyed that he had interrupted her.

"I have received a message from the Council. They have set dates for the humans to speak with their families on Earth. Yours is in six days' time."

That had been unexpected and Lois could do no more than sit silently then, trying to get her mind around how this announcement made her feel. Because the relief and excitement had been anticipated, but the anxiety that curled around her was not.


	8. A Flare of HighPowered Perception

On a personal note, Anissa and I got some pretty bad medical news about my father-in-law this week and all the good vibes you can spare would be greatly appreciated. This just sucks, to put it bluntly.

On another note, the **_Superman Movieverse Fanfiction Awards_** is in the midst of setting up the voting for best of fandom, which starts tomorrow and will be running through the 14th. If you feel the urge, please go over and make your voice heard for your favorite authors! You guys have no idea how great it is to see that you have fans behind you!

Also, things are brewing in this little universe now, starting this chapter. Are you ready for what's to come? :D Time will tell.

Enjoy, all!

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Kal-El was miserable. His grand project had ground to an abrupt halt, and Lois' cold attitude made even the simple act of living with her a burden. She treated him with such cold formality, as if he'd given her some terrible insult, and at first Kal-El could not ascertain what had angered her so.

She had been frustrated, but he had done everything she asked. He had taken her outside, and when she'd been overcome with anger on seeing the other human, he had refuted her furious assertions. He'd even promised to do what he could to rectify the problems, and had examined his every interaction with her to ensure that he wasn't treating her as a second-class citizen.

After several days Kal-El had come to the conclusion that his own behavior was not at fault. Instead, Lois had been enraged by the way the Kryptonian woman had treated her human 'guest'. The incident had opened his eyes to the way his countrymen reacted to the humans.

He knew, of course, that some of his people agreed with Zor-El that humans were base savages. He had never guessed that anyone with that attitude had volunteered to house a human. Yet once Kal-El began to investigate, paying more attention to the humans' caretakers than to the humans themselves, he was disturbed to realize that in many cases they _were_ being treated like animals. True, there were others like himself who were fascinated by the humans and eager to interact with them, but the prevailing attitude was one of mistrust, resentment, and even fear.

Kal-El had even seen one human, a tall, powerfully built man, fitted with a Kryptonian medical device that looked much like a crystal collar. It emitted electrical impulses to certain nerves in the cervical spine, and was used to induce deep relaxation prior to some procedures that required sedation instead of anesthesia. That human's host had been an older man, much slighter than his 'guest', and by the tension in his shoulders he was deeply afraid of the human that accompanied him. Kal-El had quickly surmised that the human wore the collar not to treat some medical condition like chronic anxiety, but so that his Kryptonian host could humanely tranquilize him at will if he felt threatened.

He had thought better of his own people than that. They had been handed an incredible opportunity to interact with a foreign culture, and they were wasting it. Both humans and Kryptonians stood to profit by their association; staid Kryptonian society could be reinvigorated by exposure to the novelty of human innovation, and the humans could benefit from the Kryptonian's vast wisdom. Their medical knowledge alone would be beyond priceless.

As of the morning of Lois' scheduled contact with her family, Kal-El was still unsure how to rectify the situation. There had to be some way to convince his countrymen of the valuable opportunity they were overlooking. He was more absorbed by the problem of how to deal with Lois, however. She had been uncommonly silent and surly ever since the incident and no amount of conciliation on Kal-El's part had thawed her attitude.

It had been decided that the humans should be brought to the Communications Center well before their scheduled time. Kal-El brought Lois there an hour in advance, intending to remain with her until she was called, but the official in charge informed him that his presence was unnecessary. "We will also be conducting a health check on all of the humans while they await their turn at the remote viewer," the officious young man told him. He wore the sigil of a minor house, one Kal-El could not remember at the moment.

"Why was this information not given to us earlier?" Kal-El asked.

"It is a routine matter," the young man told him, as if that answered the question. "This is … Lois Lane, correct?"

He would have motioned Lois to follow him, but Kal-El stepped slightly in front of her. "Indeed. What kind of health check are you planning to perform?"

Now the official was annoyed, and let it show in his tone. "A simple diagnostic crystal scan, to ensure that they are being maintained in good health. Does that meet with your approval…?" He trailed off, expecting to hear his questioner's name.

"Kal-El, son of Jor-El," he replied, and the official paled.

"Forgive me…" he stammered, clearly worried about offending the son of a member of the Science Council and close friend of Chancellor Zod.

"It is not I to whom you need apologize," Kal-El said, gently. His father had raised him with more grace than this man. He turned to Lois and said, "The diagnostic crystal he referred to is quite simple. It merely shines a very bright light upon you. Much like your own x-rays, only this is not harmful even in very large doses. This technology allows us to monitor your overall health without any invasive procedures."

Lois simply nodded, as if all of this meant nothing to her. Perhaps she was simply distracted, both by the presence of other humans and by the prospect of speaking to her family again. "I will return for you at the appointed hour, Miss Lane," he told her. Her eyes flicked to his then as she nodded a second time. He couldn't quite read the emotion there.

To the official, Kal-El added, "Take good care of her. Do not forget that these humans are ambassadors of a sovereign world. They ought to be treated with the respect due to them. It is only proper courtesy to tell them what is to happen to them. And if they do not understand Kryptonese, find one of the humans who have learned it to translate." The young man, who was most likely a few years older than Kal-El himself, nodded a trifle too eagerly.

His attitude continued to rankle as Kal-El turned to leave. Why was it so difficult to simply _inform_ the humans and their caretakers of what was planned? Did they think no one cared? For a moment, he tried to imagine the diagnostic crystal through human eyes. An enormous, glowing, translucent stone, moving under its own power with little chiming noises as it slid along the other crystals in its assembly, steadily approaching a human who had no idea what it was… There might be panic. Kal-El was glad he had made his request.

Perhaps there was more he could do. Kal-El briefly considering visiting the Office of Human Affairs, but on a day like this they would be overwhelmed trying to coordinate the communication schedule. Besides, that organization was still quite new, having been chartered and formed just before the human ambassadors were brought to New Krypton. Perhaps the best option was to speak to someone with more direct control over the situation. Kal-El did not immediately know who was in charge of all this, but he was certain his father would know. With an hour or two to spare, he decided to call on Jor-El.

The trip by hovercraft took only a few minutes, and Kal-El had a standing invitation to his father's home. Lara let him in, and since Jor-El was in his laboratory, they spent a few minutes in casual conversation. "And how is Lois Lane?" Lara finally asked.

Kal-El sighed. "She is … dismayed. The other day while we were walking, we encountered another human with his host. The woman assigned to him was very brusque. Lois took exception to that treatment. She says that we treat her people like animals, that at best they are pets. At worst, slaves. And I … I find it very hard to disagree with her, in some instances."

Lara had gone somewhat paler as he spoke. "My son… This is a very trying time, for both of our peoples."

"And it need not be," Kal-El countered. "We have an opportunity for the betterment of both of our worlds, and we are wasting it in ignorance and xenophobia. Some of our people _are_ treating the humans as if they are mindless, vicious beasts. I had thought to make an appointment with the Office of Human Affairs, to discuss a more equitable treatment of our guests, but…"

Sighing, Lara touched his arm lightly, something she had occasionally done in his childhood to reassure him. "Kal-El, you are an optimist. The truth is, we have some cause to fear the humans."

"They have never seen spacecraft like ours before. They could not have known the Roz IV was manned," he argued.

"They also could not have known it was _not_ manned, and they struck anyway. I know, my son, I know. To Lois, we must surely seem like oppressors. But she will soon come to appreciate the benefits of having lived among us. Our advanced society has much to offer her primitive people."

Kal-El blinked. Lara had espoused a much more accepting view of humanity at dinner the other day, and now she sounded almost like another bureaucrat. Before he could reply, she smiled and said, "Now, if you will keep your fascination with your studies to a minimum, we may call upon your father in his laboratory."

That wasn't like her at all. Lara had _never_ discouraged his interest in anything. Bemused, Kal-El followed her to Jor-El's workspace. He seemed surprised by their arrival, but welcomed his son warmly. Once the door was closed behind them, Lara said in tones of disappointment, "Oh, you were not going to work with the sonic disruptor again, were you? Jor-El, I promise you that device makes an audible – and quite annoying – hum."

"Unfortunately, my dear, if we are to find a use for the harmonics it generates, we must test it. And with Kal-El here we can test your assertion that it creates sound in the audible range. I myself hear nothing." With that, he touched a panel on his workstation, and indeed a barely-audible hum filled the room.

"Mother is right. I do hear it," Kal-El said, now thoroughly confused.

"Yes, and any listening devices in or around the house are thoroughly scrambled by it," Jor-El replied. "Lara, what has happened?"

"Nothing of great import, my love. Only that your son wishes to inform the Office of Human Affairs of how to conduct their business," Lara said dryly.

Both of them stared at Kal-El. "My son," Jor-El began, and faltered.

"Father, tell me what is going on." Kal-El's heart was racing with fear – and unseemly excitement. Were his own parents involved in some kind of controversy?

Jor-El sighed, and motioned them all toward seats. "It has become … disadvantageous to speak too highly of the humans. I was asked some pointed questions after our dinner. Zor-El has been stirring trouble, trying to sway public opinion. The fool does not know…" He shook his head, interrupting himself.

Kal-El could only stare. He had never heard his father speak so critically of his uncle. The two were not close friends, and at times they had disagreed loudly, but Jor-El had never openly disparaged his brother in Kal-El's hearing.

Lara spoke up then. "Kal-El, if your father is to maintain his position and keep Dru-Zod's trust, we must be very careful what we are heard to say."

His heart leapt. "So you were dissembling before. You _do_ agree we are mistreating the humans." Kal-El knew that his parents did not share certain things with him, mostly the intricate details of political maneuvering, in which he had no interest anyway. But realizing that they might be on his side was a revelation. Perhaps he would finally be inducted into the machinations of Kryptonian high society…

That emotion was crushed when Jor-El scoffed. "Mistreating them? You have learned their history, my son. You know how barbarously they have treated their own prisoners. If they must suffer a minor loss of pride or comforts here, then that is of little consequence."

"But Father, there is no need to treat them so. Humans could become our allies, and both of our worlds could benefit, they from our wisdom, we from their ingenuity," Kal-El pleaded.

Jor-El and Lara shared a look full of dismay. "Perhaps this is so," Lara ventured, "but only once they have become less of a threat."

Kal-El stared at them both. "I do not understand how you, who were both so excited to learn of the existence of an intelligent species so near to our new home, who encouraged me to learn all I could of them, can be so pessimistic and dismissive."

"My son, I do not dismiss your ideas. I will, however, forbid you from taking them to the Office of Human Affairs, or to anyone on any of the Councils." Jor-El spoke heavily, and his gaze seemed to be trying to communicate something beyond his words. Unfortunately, Kal-El could not grasp what that was.

The younger Kryptonian rose from his seat. "Then I shall do what I can, within your limitations, to improve the conditions of Lois' captivity," he said stoutly. And with formal leave-takings, he turned and left.

Kal-El did remember to pause at the open laboratory door and say, for the benefit of any listening devices that might exist, "Father, forgive my abrupt departure. I too can hear the hum Mother mentioned, and it is quite aggravating." Amid apologies and formal leave-takings, he made his exit.

After returning to the Office of Human Affairs, where he intended to wait for Lois, Kal-El devoted some thought to the problem. He had to at least consider that his parents might be correct; in his experience, they often were.

But as he quickly concluded, not on this matter. That conviction came from someplace deeper than knowledge and experience. Kal-El was certain that Lois was a sentient being, and that as such she was entitled to a life of dignity and freedom. He believed so intrinsically, just as he believed that courtesy and kindness were virtues while ignorance and spitefulness were vices. Whether cosseting or callous indifference, her treatment at the hands of a technologically-superior species robbed her of self-determination and reduced her to a curiosity.

With a chill, Kal-El realized what bothered him so much about his people's attitudes toward the humans. Kryptonians were _technologically_ superior, but many of them seemed to forget the adverb modifier in that sentence, believing themselves to be superior in all ways. They evidently did not learn from the example of humanity, had not studied the histories of slavery, degradation, and war caused by one race's surety of superiority over another. True, this was a slightly different situation, since Kryptonians and humans actually were different species and not simply races of the same species. The example held, however, because in Kal-El's mind there were few differences between his own people and Lois'. Cultural, technological, perhaps a few physiological, but humans showed the same capacity for intelligence, honor, courage, and commitment that Kryptonians esteemed in themselves.

Kal-El had hoped that humans would be treated as equals here, that he could approach Lois as a fellow traveler on a magnificent journey to interspecies understanding and accord. But that he could not do, not while some of his countrymen regarded her as little more than a talking animal.

He resolved then to make himself her ally, and to seek to improve conditions for all humans on Krypton. Only then could the free exchange of ideas he hoped for take place. He simply would not go through bureaucratic channels, as Jor-El had forbidden it. No law compelled him to obey his father once he was a grown man of voting age, but Kal-El respected Jor-El and obeyed out of filial duty. Besides, there were other ways to foster better relations between the two species than to enact laws requiring it.

As for Lois, personally, he would have to convince her that he was truly on her side. She had every reason to question his motives and to doubt his intentions. It seemed likely that he would have to step across the cultural divide between them to prove how committed he was to understanding her people.

By the time Lois was finally released, Kal-El had come to the conclusion that convincing her was going to require a major concession on his part. The thought was disturbing, but if he had calculated correctly, that one simple act would speak volumes.

He waited, however, until they were home again. And perhaps it was as well; she seemed unusually subdued after speaking with her family. "Lois," he said softly, when she would have gone to her room.

She turned to look at him questioningly, expression clouded, and Kal-El paused only briefly before he reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. Just for a few seconds, and he made sure not to let his aversion to it show on his face. "I want you to know that I am your friend," he told her quietly, as her eyes widened in disbelief.


	9. Images of Broken Light

**This week has been utter madness. I wish I had something witty for this morning, but witty and three hours' sleep in twenty-four do not a wit make. That said, I hope this chapter is worth the wait. I will now be crashing face-down in bed for the next eight hours. Enjoy!**

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For some reason beyond Lois, most of the humans had been left to mill around while waiting for their turn at the video-conference area. The fact that they would have allowed such casual contact amongst the Earthlings told her everything she needed to know about the Chancellor's thoughts on intelligence and the human spirit. She easily drifted through the crowd, spotting a few familiar faces from the trip here. She could hear snippets of a dozen languages, some of which she understood, some of which were utterly foreign.

Suddenly, someone caught her elbow. _Oh God, since we do they have telepaths?_ _Tell me this isn't…_ Unable to stop the chill that ran down her spine, Lois whirled around at the unexpected contact, and a handsome young man beamed at her. It was so unexpected that the surprise didn't even have a chance to show on her face. "Hey! I've missed you!" he exclaimed and swept her into a hug.

He was a complete stranger, and Lois stiffened. Were some of them already cracking up from the stress? But no, as he squeezed her tight, he whispered in her ear, "_Vive la resistance_. Pass it on, Lane."

Those words electrified her. _It's already started._ Her mind raced as she instantly understood. Of course – the Kryptonians couldn't stand to watch typical human displays of affection, so the best way to cover the passing of secrets was with an affectionate hug. And of course he knew her name; by his accent, he was American, and most of their hostages knew who Lois was by virtue of her being the youngest. Lois squeezed him right back before moving on, smiling as if she'd just parted from an old friend.

Long live the resistance. She hadn't felt this free of heart since coming to this planet. So there _was_ an organized resistance to Kryptonian rule, which Lois and her father had known would eventually happen. She just hadn't expected it this _quickly_. She moved around the group with a spring in her step, passing on the word to several others just as it had been given to her.

When it came time to sit down in front of the crystal screen they were using for video-conferencing, Lois was ready. Her father, mother, and sister were all there, and Lois pretended not to see the tears that trickled from the corners of Ella's eyes. "Hello, Princess," General Lane said, his voice a trifle rough.

That, too, was code. Her father had never been much on affectionate nicknames, for Lois at least. If he'd called her 'Sweetheart', it meant he had no new information. 'Princess' meant that plans were underway to rescue her and the other hostages. Long-term plans, of course. When those plans came close to fruition, his greeting would change to 'Pumpkin' – as in, be ready on time or your carriage may turn into one.

"Hi, Daddy. Hi, Mom, Luce," Lois said, surprising herself with the tremble in her voice.

"How are you?" Ella asked, overriding Sam's scripted questions. Worry was clear in her expression.

"I'm fine, Momma," Lois said, desperate to reassure her. The last thing Ella needed was more stress. She edited her further explanation accordingly. "My host is … pretty cool, actually. He's interested in Earth, and he tries to make me comfortable. Even if does eat spaghetti with chopsticks."

That got a giggle from Lucy, and all of them relaxed a bit. Sam almost sighed. "Good, good. Remember, our best bet in this situation is to make allies of them, let them see their first impression of us was wrong. So make sure you're on your best behavior."

Another coded reminder, and Lois managed not to flinch at it. Her orders had been to befriend her captors, to lull them into thinking she was harmless so that she could get more reliable information. The past few days of frosty behavior definitely weren't in line with her father's goals. "It's not always easy, but I'm working at it."

"So everything's going well so far?" the General asked.

That was yet another code, and Lois made sure to give the right answer. "Absolutely. I'm doing well. Just a little homesick, you know, but that happens when you travel." If she hadn't mentioned homesickness, that would mean things were uncomfortable, and if she'd said she was doing great, that would mean she had serious problems.

They talked for a few more minutes, interspersing coded exchanges about her safety with questions from her mother and sister. Lois finally managed to say, "Dad, have you heard from Uncle Bob?"

Lois didn't actually have an uncle named Bob. Asking after him meant that the humans on Krypton were forming a resistance. Lois hadn't expected to be able to share that so soon, but she saw her father's eyes light up with pride.

Ella had been warned to expect the question, so she didn't look confused as Sam answered smoothly, "He's doing well. About the same as usual – his heart's in it, but he's not back up strength yet." That reply meant that the Earth side of things was in progress but not yet fully developed. Lois could live with that.

She found she could be patient, as long as she had reason to. One thing she tried to communicate to her father through code words was the way the Kryptonians consistently underestimated her people's intelligence. That would certainly come in handy. If the aliens kept thinking of them as dumb brutes, the humans could use that to surprise them and win the ultimate battle.

One thing they didn't have codes for, and Lois had to sneak it into actual conversation. Fortunately Ella provided an opening. "I worry about you missing school," she fretted. "I know that's silly, but…"

"Don't worry, Momma," Lois cut in, smiling. "I'm learning a lot from the Kryptonians – their science is way ahead of ours. And for the history stuff, well, they've got the internet, so I can follow along with the class syllabus even from here."

"Excellent. That's wonderful, that you're keeping up your schooling," the General said. Shortly thereafter, her time ran out, and Lois walked away feeling quite accomplished.

At least until a Kryptonian woman with short dark hair stopped her. Her uniform was black rather than the more traditional white, and something about her eyes sent a chill down Lois' spine. "Why did you tell them about the internet?" she demanded.

_Shit! Think fast, Lane. They might question your family._ "My mother was worried about me keeping up in school," Lois said, trying for a casual tone. "We're military, we're constantly moving around, so it's enough trouble trying to stay even with students my age without having to miss a bunch of classes, too. I just don't want her to worry about me."

The woman stared at her for a few long seconds, then dropped her gaze to the crystal around her neck. Lois thought the symbol carved on it looked like an S, but it was supposed to be the sigil of her host's family. "House of El? Very well then. You may go."

That had been a lot closer than she liked, and Lois moved on, hoping that Kal-El would be there to pick her up soon. She'd known that the House of El was important and powerful, with Jor-El being on the Science Council, but she hadn't known that merely wearing their symbol could get her out of trouble.

To her surprise, she found Kal-El waiting. On the flight home, Lois kept silent, wondering how – and if –she could exploit his family's influence. She also worried about the way she'd been questioned. That black uniform looked like bad news – the only other time she'd seen a Kryptonian dressed in black was the video footage of Chancellor Zod. Maybe that woman worked directly for him – sooner or later she'd have to ask Kal-El what the significance of the color was. Assuming, of course, that he remained a reliable source of information. If he began to suspect her, he might feed her misinformation. That was the smartest way to deal with a spy, after all. Getting rid of a known spy just meant you didn't know who the replacement would be. Keeping them in place and controlling what they knew turned a liability into an advantage, and Lois had to be sure not to land in that situation.

Once they walked into his house, however, Kal-El shocked her badly. She was headed for her room when he spoke her name. Lois turned, and he touched her shoulder.

_Kryptonians don't touch._ That had been one of her safeguards, knowing that these people considered a handshake the height of intimacy. Violence of any kind was simply beyond them. But here was Kal-El, touching _her_, a human, a lesser creature. Admittedly, he was just touching her clothing, not her skin, and only for a few seconds. But it still called into question everything she knew about him and his people.

Then again, her father wanted her to get as close to him as possible, and this was as close as his kind ever got. It meant he trusted her, at least a little, and she could build on that. _If_ she stopped treating him like an oppressor.

Only then did she realize what he'd just said. "I want you to know that I am your friend." A few quiet words, but spoken with absolute sincerity, his eyes boring into hers with such earnestness that she believed him.

For a moment, the endless refrain of _he is the enemy_ stopped. She couldn't think like that, not if she wanted to accomplish her goals. Lois would have to at least appear to return his friendship.

And there was, somewhere buried beneath the duty she clung to and the fear she refused to show, a deep yearning for what he was offering. For someone she could trust. It would be foolish to offer that to her captor, but she could tap that loneliness and use it to make her performance more genuine.

All of those thoughts flashed through her mind quicker than summer lightning. Then Lois smiled back at him, still a trifle cautious. "Thank you, Kal-El. I … I'm starting to think I need a friend."

"Of course," he said. For a moment he seemed about to say more, but then he shook his head and apparently changed the topic. "Please, if there is anything you require, anything you would wish to have, let me know and I shall do my best to procure it for you."

He seemed to want her to ask for something, and Lois could easily think of a few things. "Honestly? It probably sounds dumb, but what I'd like more than anything else are some more human-style clothes." She bit her lip a little once she got it out. It was a pretty foolish request, honestly, but truly meant. Maybe she'd be a little more capable of clear thought if she felt like herself again. Besides, it was best to start small. "I could only bring one outfit with me, and I'm not really comfortable in Kryptonian clothes yet. I know, I know, I have to wear this outside, but in here at least I'd be much happier in familiar clothing." She gave a little shrug then, making sure to look a little sheepish.

Kal-El smiled at that. "I believe I can accomplish that easily. I will, however, need to know your clothing sizes."

The discussion that followed involved the different sizing conventions, discussions of different types of clothing, the advantages and disadvantages of different fabrics, and ultimately ended up with Kal-El using his crystal computer to let Lois show him examples on the internet. The experience that followed was one of the strangest she'd ever had.

The hacked-together browser they were using was extremely basic, but it allowed their advanced crystal computers to interface with internet data servers. He already knew about Google search, but Lois decided to make things a little easier and showed him to the online store of one of her favorite retailers. Just something simple – she wasn't going to be wearing miniskirts on New Krypton. Some jeans and t-shirts would be very welcome, though. "Most U.S. stores use these kinds of sizes for women's pants," Lois told him. "Any boot-cut jeans this size will work. And for shirts…" She surfed over to the t-shirt collection. "Anything in this size. Solid colors are probably simplest. Slogans you don't want to mess with."

Kal-El had saved some of the images and links as she worked. "It will take some time, but I believe I can do this. Is there anything else?"

Lois hesitated, then plunged onward. "Maybe … some food? Like actual made-on-Earth tastes-like-grandma-made-it food? I mean, it's very sweet of you to try and recreate things, and most of them are really good, but…"

"If I were on your planet, I would long for the tastes of home," Kal-El said quietly. "It must be something that will survive the journey. Do you have any specific requests, or shall I simply acquire whatever non-perishables I can?"

Feeling like she was on shaky ground, Lois decided not to be picky. "Whatever you can get. How _are_ you getting this stuff, anyway?"

He grinned like a boy planning a raid on the cookie jar. "It may surprise you to know that a thriving black-market trade in human goods already exists. Some of my people are as fascinated with yours as I am, and all of us are intrigued by novelty. Few Kryptonian homes are currently without Earth spices, Earth literature, or Earth art."

"Whoa." Lois hadn't expected that at all. This was interstellar trade – but how were they managing to bring all that stuff across under Chancellor Zod's nose? Despite herself, she gave him the thinnest edge of a conspiratorial grin. "Do I even want to know how all this is being managed?"

Kal-El hesitated a moment before replying. "Some of our people are on your world, mining a certain mineral compound that is plentiful there. During their breaks, the miners have been learning more about the planet they find themselves on. At least one, and more likely several, of the miners have chosen to acquire human goods, and to trade them for conveniences from home that the military would not normally allow to take up shipping space."

"And you got into this how?" Lois asked, since he was in a talkative mood.

"I am the scion of the House of El. I have the necessary funds and connections. Furthermore, I am aware that the trade is technically illegal but that it harms no one; in fact, it benefits our miners in that it makes their lives more comfortable. And now it can benefit you and the other humans, making your captivity more bearable. Those who trade in such things know that, once I was aware of their activities, I could easily have turned them all in to the Supreme Chancellor, and my unsupported word as the son of Jor-El would have been enough to start an investigation. However, since I have also involved myself in the trade, I am unlikely to turn traitor when it would cause suspicion to devolve upon me. Therefore they are happy to deal with me."

_That_ was a lot to consider . One, she had potential blackmail material now. He seemed to think she would never use that against him, or maybe he knew a human's word wouldn't be believed over a Kryptonian's. Regardless, it was important information.

Perhaps more importantly, he had referred to her captivity. Using such a term could mean that he had cast aside the euphemisms about her being a guest or an ambassador, and seen her situation for what it was: a hostage, a prisoner of war.

It might even mean that he sympathized with her plight, and could even be made into an ally. Lois couldn't yet allow herself to dare to hope for so much. Sympathy was easy, but actually _doing_ something about such conditions was always hard. Few people had the courage to stand up to an abusive regime, especially when it wasn't their own people being imprisoned.

Still, the glimmer of hope in her heart refused to die.

The wheels had begun to turn.


	10. A Time For Every Purpose

Sorry this is late, all, but I was trying to post this in both locations at the same time. However, I'm not being able to access LiveJournal even this morning, so they'll have their post even later. Thanks in advance for understanding! ♥

* * *

Only two things in life were constant, in Dru-Zod's estimation: entropy and bureaucracy. All things tended to decline, to dissipate, and required intervention to maintain or progress. And along with that, all things tended to require meetings and studies and, most dreadfully, the complex forms. There was no such thing on Old or New Krypton as 'paperwork', as the majority of documents were stored digitally, yet there were still tedious requests to fill out and forms to complete.

The Supreme Chancellor delegated as much of it as he dared, but it would not do for him to be completely divorced from the process. That invited graft and corruption. Furthermore, he could not ignore the endless lists of documents completely without appearing as if he did not understand what his lieutenants did, and was unaware of conditions in the armed forces. So he arranged to be reading reports just before most meetings began, thus cementing his reputation as a conscientious leader.

With his own people, however, he could dispense with some of the subterfuge. Especially those who reported directly to him; their loyalty was assured. And of those he trusted, the highest in his esteem was Ursa, who was in charge of the Kryptonian military police, the Consulars. The fact that their ranks included most of his unofficial intelligence officers as well as most of the spies inserted into his organization by his political rivals was no accident.

So when he met with Ursa, Dru-Zod had no need to make a show of how dedicated he was to his calling. She already knew the depth of his zeal. Likewise, though she was absolutely stringent about protocols in all other circumstances, in his presence she was rather more relaxed than anyone who reported to her would ever believe. They understood each other; of the entirety of his kind, no one else, not even his wife Fayora, knew Dru-Zod's mind as well as Ursa did.

Since it was just the two of them, and his office was checked for recording devices several times a day, when Ursa came in to report she simply took a seat. She was already smiling, and that boded ill for someone somewhere. "Ursa, my dear, I trust you bring me good news?"

"Of course, General." She accepted his authority alone, had even discarded the name of her house rather be bound by them, and would not call him by his given name. Yet she also did not use his current title. He had been the General to her when they first met, he had been the General during their long perilous journey to this planet, and now that he faced a simmering war of rebellion against these pathetic humans, he was more the General than ever.

"Very well then. Enlighten me." He leaned back in his chair, and she mirrored his casual pose.

"The miners' productivity is between 8 and 12 percent higher than projections," she began, quoting as usual without reference to digital notes. Most of their topics of discussion could not be trusted to any recording device more permanent than the mind. "Some of this, surely, is as a cover for the black market. They think as long as they do not shirk, we will not suspect them. Of course, we suspect them more for being superlatively productive in such an alien environment." She shook her head with a slight chuckle at the miners' naïveté.

"As you asked, I've discovered that most of the trade consists of innocuous items. Nearly half, by volume, is spices. Our miners long for the taste of home, and our people here have made human-style seasonings a ridiculous fad." Ursa couldn't help sneering a little at that.

It _was_ ridiculous, but not dangerous. "And the rest?"

"Odds and ends, mostly. Plants, generally the ones that are edible or decorative. Various textiles. Artwork, quite a lot of that, actually. Some of our artists are evidently much inspired by the humans' work. Even I must admit they sometimes have a certain … brash, declarative style that is at once counter to everything we value as a people, and yet strangely appealing."

That information did not surprise him in the least. Human culture did have a tendency toward bold iconoclasm, and even as harmonious as Krypton was, all societies had their rebels. "I believe I have noticed a similar effect," he told her. "And the rest?"

"Some small amounts of their medicines and recreational drugs have been imported. The recipients are our scientists, who appear to be engaged in legitimate study. There are also some novel items – a few articles of furniture, some primitive human electronic devices, and the like."

"Harmless," Dru-Zod said, and Ursa nodded agreement. "What is less so is the traffic in information."

Her gaze hardened with frustration. "Those fools on the Council! How dare they preempt you?"

"They saw no harm in opening the link to the humans' communications systems, or in making the software to interface with it available to the public. And _that_ is why they are dangerous. Not because they are wise and intelligent men wielding great power, but because they are short-sighted and vainglorious men wielding power they do not comprehend."

"Can we not shut down the communication? Surely we can find a pretext with which to reserve those functions for legitimate government business?"

"Oh, we certainly could," Dru-Zod sighed. "Yet to do so would cause more criticism of my authority. I have enough rebuke in the person of Zor-El, and those like him, without inviting more."

The anger glittering in Ursa's dark eyes spoke volumes of her opinion concerning Zor-El. "A visit to the Phantom Zone would quell his wagging tongue."

"And make him a martyr. I can sense the discontent amongst the people, Ursa. They trust me now, for we are at war and they are reassured by having a warrior in command. But we will not always be mired in conflict, and there _will_ always be those who accuse me of misusing my position, who claim I have no intention of surrendering power."

"Why should you? Have you not single-handedly saved an entire race from destruction at the apathetic hands of its elected masters?"

"Not quite single-handedly," he corrected. "Your assistance was and is invaluable to me. We also could never have left the planet's surface without the ingenuity of Jor-El."

"Is that why you do not punish the traitor? Out of gratitude toward his brother?" Ursa asked.

Ordinarily the Supreme Chancellor disliked any questioning of his motives. He permitted Ursa the luxury, however, because he was assured of her loyalty. "It is because of Jor-El, but not in gratitude. No, we need Jor-El. The people trust his wisdom and insight. As long as he remains a staunch supporter, Zor-El looks like a mere rabble-rouser. By tolerating Zor-El, we ensure that Jor-El remains at least publicly our ally."

"Publicly?" Ursa asked. "You mean to say you suspect him of treason?"

"He has tried to reason with me over this war," Dru-Zod said, with a slight smile. "With most earnest and rational arguments he has tried to sway me into more tolerant treatment of the humans. Of course, he is not in possession of all the facts."

Ursa grinned. Some things could never be spoken of, some secrets were too dangerous to expose to the open air, even if this office was as tightly protected as any place on New Krypton. The fact that Supreme Chancellor Zod had _known_ how humans would react to a strange ship in low-earth orbit was one of those closely-guarded secrets.

She alone knew that he had intentionally sacrificed the ship and its crew, including one of his own lieutenants. The man in question was widely known to be one of his most trusted people, but he had not actually had Dru-Zod's trust for some time, hence the choice of him for this mission. In death he could serve more completely than he had in life, and service was what he had sworn when he joined the military.

It had been a pragmatic decision. With the destruction of Old Krypton safely behind them and a new planet to tame, there seemed little need for a military leader. Soon enough the people would have begun to agitate for a return to democratic rule, and Dru-Zod could not permit that. Within a few years they would have returned to the same foolishness that nearly destroyed their entire species, debating every minor detail and denying anything that meant discomfort.

No, for the safety of generations to come, it was better that Krypton be led by a single ruler. One man, one vision, one authority to keep the bureaucratic nonsense to a minimum. And he was close to achieving his goal; an entire generation of Kryptonians had grown up under his rule, and they were well satisfied with their lot in life. They saw him as a brilliant strategist, perhaps even a savior. It was their parents and grandparents who yearned for the ideals of democracy, and who had forgotten that the _reality_ of such had nearly killed them all.

What he needed was a conflict to showcase his strengths, and the humans had been a perfect opportunity. Their average lifestyle was abhorrent to the Kryptonian mindset, and they were technologically and scientifically millennia behind his own people. It was simple to foment distress of them, and he'd been able to declare war with the sacrifice of a single ship – an event that brought the majority of his followers firmly to his side. Now they saw him as a steadfast protector keeping the human menace at bay.

The fact that this Earth contained an abundance of the mineral compounds which accelerated crystal growth was even more convenient. His war would show material gains for everyone currently waiting for new structures. And of course, he would ensure that Kryptonian medical knowledge was dispensed to all the peoples of Earth, proving himself a compassionate and forgiving leader as well.

All of it was a perfect opportunity, and Ursa alone understood how he had taken advantage of that. Dru-Zod could trust her as he trusted no other; to her he was Rao personified, life-giver and death-bringer. It was not entirely hyperbole, as he had affected her life's path more than she had known. For instance, she knew now that she would never have been accepted into military service if not for his direct intervention.

It had been one of the changes he'd managed to force through the Science Council, and a very sensible one indeed. Individuals who would be rejected from service due to character flaws such as instability or aggression – the sorts of things that often led to criminal behavior later in life, and expensive long-term rehabilitation – were now admitted and carefully monitored. Dru-Zod had argued that the structure and discipline of military service could help prevent such people from going astray, and it was folly to wait to cure antisocial behavior when a preventative was available.

Ursa, whose rebellion extended to casting off her family name, was one of the greatest challenges he had faced in proving his program's worth. Over time and with careful handling, such as positioning her within the ranks so that all her commanding officers were female, she had become his most obvious success. A malcontent who acknowledged no authority had become the head of no less an organization than the Consulars, reporting directly to the then-General himself – that seemed to prove Dru-Zod's genius to the Council.

Of course, Jor-El had rather spoiled the effect by pointing out that Dru-Zod's ranks were seeded with potentially unstable individuals, and now they were trained fighters. Dru-Zod had listened carefully to his friend's concerns and used the dialogue provoked by it to bind Jor-El closer to himself, all without letting on that he had planned from the start to have these borderline individuals under his command. If he had needed to take power by violence, he had a cadre of loyal soldiers throughout the ranks of his army who would back him at any cost. Most of them knew, like Ursa, that he had interceded on their behalf, and their fealty to him was considerable.

But none were like Ursa. It was a pity that he not met her until he was already married. Then again, if he had married someone within his own ranks instead of a well-bred lady like Fayora, the Council might have been unduly worried by the depth of his dedication to the military, so perhaps in the end it was best that fate had happened as it did.

His reflective silence did not disturb her. She watched him carefully as he mused, and kept respectfully quiet. At last Dru-Zod roused himself from his reverie and acknowledged her patience with a nod. "Jor-El is no traitor. He is … conflicted, perhaps. But he is just like the rest of the scientists. To him, knowledge is the highest pursuit possible. He has no wish to become so embroiled in politics that his precious experiments suffer. Therefore he can safely be allowed some latitude with which I would not trust another. And I am well rewarded for my tolerance. His genius saved us once, and may do so again; I have no wish to alienate him."

"You admire him," Ursa said thoughtfully.

Dru-Zod shrugged. "I admire his intellect and his creativity. I have not forgotten, however, that it was a narrow decision which led him to support me. He _could_ have put principle above practicality; you have seen that in his brother. In the end, I think, it was his son that changed his mind. Had he not sided with me, not only would he and Lara have perished, but the infant Kal-El also."

That sparked interest in Ursa's dark eyes. "Speaking of Kal-El, his human mentioned our use of their 'internet' to her family. She had a plausible enough reason; she is the youngest of the guests, and still required to take part in their formal education. I let it pass for the moment, but I recommend we watch Kal-El carefully."

The Supreme Chancellor scoffed lightly. "Kal-El? He is even more a dreamer than his father. Keep watch, but do not invest too heavily in surveillance. There is little harm that such a youth could do, and I understand his human guest is scarce more than a child."

Ursa accepted that with a nod. Their audience was drawing to a close, and she had one more concern to address. "Are you utterly certain that we should allow the free use of the 'internet' by all our people? I cannot help feeling that it is a pollutant of sorts."

On that, his decision was made. "No, it is better that we permit the freedom of information, for now. Much of what they are able to access is dross, in any case, and will serve to divert them. I have been using the connection myself, to study human history. They have a saying, my dear: bread and circuses."

The terms were unfamiliar, and she puzzled them out carefully. "Bread and circuses? It sounds … strange."

"It is quite elegant. You see, if you address a people's most basic concerns, symbolized here by bread, and provide them with entertainment, symbolized by circuses, then you create an enormous amount of public goodwill, while preventing your populace from becoming overly invested in civic duty. In the latter days of the human civilization of Rome, which had been a republic and bastion of democracy, it was ruled by emperors whose power was absolute. Why did the Romans permit this state of affairs? Because they were given a daily ration of bread, and entertained by violent spectacles known as games or circuses."

"Elegant indeed," Ursa murmured.

"So long as they are fed, clothed, sheltered, allowed to go about their little lives mostly unmolested, and _amused_, the common people will ignore the greater workings of government. See this current craze for herbs and spices from Earth: so long as that occupies their thoughts, they will not reflect on how those items are brought here."


	11. A Distant, Tentative Glow

**Thank you all for understanding about last week's setback. There is some serious madness and badness going on in my life right now and this month is making it clear that this will likely be the peak of it all. I just hope we weather all of this in one piece. **

**Good news? We plan to give you two new chapters in a row, so keep your eyes peeled next week for another entry!**

* * *

Lois walked around the new creation, a skeptical light in her eyes. "Is it acceptable?" Kal-El asked, hanging back at the doorway.

He was doing his best to make her comfortable – he didn't intrude into her rooms without a direct invitation, which so far she hadn't given, and he had come through on his promise to acquire Earth-style clothing. Which was why she was currently wearing jeans and a t-shirt, nothing special, but the feel of cotton and denim against her skin was pure heaven after a couple weeks of slick, antimicrobial Kryptonian fabric.

This latest effort was also about making her comfortable. Kryptonian beds were circular, more like a nest than a bed, and Lois had trouble sleeping in them. The single thin sheet kept her perfectly warm, but it felt alien, nothing like the comforters and blankets she was used to. So Kal-El, ever the gracious host, had done his best to create a human-style bed for her.

Obviously the black market couldn't transport an entire _bed_. They were shipping plants, spices, artwork, and textiles, mostly trivial things, easily concealed in small packages. Even the paintings and photographs could be rolled up and shipped in tubes. An entire bed frame was out of the question for weight and size, to say nothing of the mattress and box-spring.

Therefore the frame was of crystal, the same stuff as his 'coffee table' in the main room. It looked surprisingly like wood, even had a grain pattern, and the illusion was complete until Lois touched it. It still felt like crystal, somehow too cold and hard to ever match the warmth of wood. But the frame wasn't all that important.

What worried her was the mattress. The sheets and comforter had been imported, a high pure-cotton thread count and bold burgundy hues that Lois herself had picked out, so they were certain to please. The mattress, on the other hand, was something that Kal-El himself had crafted, or directed his robots to make. She'd described to him what it needed to be, and she knew he'd put a lot of effort into this. Lois just hoped it had turned out well. At this point, she'd hate to be disappointed and have to watch that boyish excitement vanish from his face.

Lois sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, and the mattress had the right amount of give. There didn't seem to be any real springiness, but she wasn't going to be jumping on it or anything. What mattered was how comfortable it was to sleep on. With that thought in mind, Lois lay back and put her feet up.

Not too soft, not too firm – she'd have to check again after a few nights to get used to it, but it felt right. Relief washed through her, and she smiled at Kal-El. "It's perfect."

He beamed back. "I am delighted to hear it." The phrasing was as stiltedly formal as anything in Kryptonese, but the joy beneath the words was real. That much Lois had decided she could trust. Kal-El truly did want her to be happy and comfortable in his home, and he enjoyed being able to provide that for her.

Now, whether he wanted her to be happy because she was a fascinating subject of study that behaved more naturally in those circumstances, or because he suspected she was a spy and needed to gain her confidence, she didn't yet know. The effect on her reactions to him was the same. Over time she had stopped needing to remind herself to be friendly, that he had to think she was harmless if she was ever going to get any useful intel from him.

Now she occasionally had to remind herself that he even was Kryptonian, because his behavior was so very similar to a human of about the same age. And he was picking up mannerisms and idioms from her at an astounding rate. He'd fit right in at her high school. Well, fit in with the chess club, maybe. There was still too much shyness and smarts to him for Kal-El to fit in with the average teenage boy crowd. Among the nerds, even his high-flown speech might not seem odd. Some of them talked like characters out of fantasy or sci-fi novels anyway.

It was much harder to keep in mind the fact that he was the enemy, not to be trusted even if his intentions were good, when he was grinning at her like this. Just like one of the straight-A math geniuses who'd just found out the hot girl knows who he was. His glad kindness made her task here both easier and harder. Easier, because he'd give her anything she asked for within reason, and harder, because she had to fight the temptation to confide in him.

She needed _someone_ to confide in. The video-conferences with her family were going to be few and far between, and she was keenly aware of the weighty responsibility on her shoulders. The General was relying on her… Lois forgot for the moment that her host was still watching her, and closed her eyes, hiding from duty for a moment.

"May I?" Kal-El asked softly, and her eyes sprang open again. He was still hovering at the doorway, still scrupulously respecting her boundaries, and Lois tilted her head to grant him permission. He came toward the bed, examining his creation with critical eyes. "You are certain it meets your requirements?"

"It's comfy," Lois said, and watched as the slang first bemused, then delighted him. She sat up and impulsively added, "Why don't you try it?"

"It is _yours_," he demurred, answering the question literally.

"No, I mean, you should try it. You made it. C'mon." Lois hopped off the bed as she spoke, patting the comforter for him.

"If you insist," Kal-El finally said, and lay down gingerly. He looked absolutely perplexed lying there, his expression caught somewhere between a frown of concentration and a faint smile. "It is certainly 'comfy', as you say. Although it seems unnatural to sleep stretched out flat on one's back."

"I usually don't," Lois said. "Sometimes I sleep on my belly, but mostly I lay on my side."

He thought about that for a long moment. "Logic suggests that our beds would be more comfortable and provide more support in that position."

"Logic's wrong," Lois informed him, then softened it. "At least for someone who grew up on flat rectangular beds."

"Hmm. Habituation would certainly be a major factor in comfort," Kal-El mused aloud. He sat up then, pressing his hand against the mattress. "I am pleased that I was able to replicate the appropriate tensile strength."

"How'd you manage that, by the way?" Lois asked. It certainly didn't feel like the usual bedsprings.

"A sound- and motion-suppressing type of foam used for insulation in the spacecraft. One detriment to using crystal is that it tends to communicate vibrations and sounds quite clearly. The material is soft to the touch, yet resistant to more intense pressure."

Lois blinked. "Oh, it's like Tempur-Pedic," she said, remembering ads on late-night television. At Kal-El's curious look she elaborated, "We have something similar, but it's expensive. _Very_ expensive. Funnily enough, the ads say it was developed for use in our spacecraft as well."

He nodded. "We had noticed that you have the capability for space flight, but had not developed it very far. Was expense perhaps part of the reason?"

"Yeah, money was a factor," Lois sighed, thinking back to the excitement of the space program. She remembered the thrill of learning about the Apollo missions when she was a kid, but in recent years the only space travel was into low earth orbit.

"Perhaps our technology can be of assistance to you in that endeavor as well," Kal-El said. "We have only just rediscovered our space-faring abilities, and could benefit from sharing ideas."

Lois looked at him steadily. Did she dare? Careful to keep her tone respectful, she said, "Do you truly believe that your people are going to freely share knowledge with mine?" Lois had unconsciously fallen into Kryptonese diction, trying not to offend him.

Kal-El returned the look just as seriously. He looked incongruous, sitting on her bed in his Kryptonian robes, but his blue eyes met hers without a trace of duplicity. "I do believe that, Lois. If I do not, then everything we have done, every promise we have made, every action we have taken, is a farce. If I did not believe that our intentions toward humanity are ultimately good, then I would be tempted to speak ill of my own government and accuse them of ruthlessly exploiting an equally sentient race."

_He knows,_ was her first thought, and Lois' heart stuttered. Kal-El had arranged to meet with several other hosts and their human guests, and Lois had taken advantage of those meetings to pass on the word about the rebellion. They were still hampered by the fact that none of the humans could move around unescorted, so trying to share information under their captors' noses was a problem. Luckily the Kryptonians seemed content to talk about their humans while said humans socialized with one another.

Kal-El's remark seemed to indicate that he knew what she was up to, and Lois felt a stab of terror like any spy who suspected she'd been discovered. In the next breath she forced herself to be calm. He might not know, and either way, if she was found out, it was imperative that she not implicate the others.

Her silence prompted a clarification from Kal-El. "I still believe in my people and our leaders, Lois. I know that conditions are … decidedly non-optimal for you and the other ambassadors. I am trying to make right as much of that as I can."

In spite of herself, Lois softened a bit more toward him, and sat down on the furthest edge of the bed. "I just … it's so _lonely_," she said, giving him the truth – but not all of it. "I don't know what's going on at home, not really. And it's nice to be able to see other humans, but we're constantly reminded that we aren't free here. We can't go anywhere without a Kryptonian to watch over us. It makes me, and most of the others, feel like we're being treated like children. Like we're not smart enough to stay out of trouble."

Kal-El frowned, and reached out to her, touching the tips of her fingers with his. As always when he touched her, Lois went still; the fleeting contact was never intrusive, but it made her wary nonetheless. "I will do my best to seek more liberties for your people, Lois. I do understand your plight. I have begun to solicit aid from other hosts as well. We have considered forming a … the word in Kryptonese means something akin to your 'club' or 'committee' or 'society', but is not precisely any of those."

Lois arched an eyebrow. "You're going to start up the Friends of Humans Club?" she asked dryly.

"Essentially, yes. We are facing many similar challenges. It is only logical that we share information on how best to help our guests adjust. That is one reason why I have introduced you to several other hosts. You are … a good example, for what their ambassadors could be."

"_I'm_ a good example?" Lois said, shocked.

"You speak our language well. Your understanding of our customs becomes more refined each day. And you behave naturally. You are not depressed, or sullen, or defiant."

Lois scoffed at that, thinking of all the times she'd bitten her tongue, all the times she'd let a caustic remark slip before remembering her duty. He smiled at her kindly. "At least, not often. Not anymore. And not in front of others. I would like to think that I have been influential in that regard."

She had the grace to blush at that. "I know … you're doing the best you can for me. That, I can believe in. It's just…"

"I am asking much of you; I know that. And I do appreciate your forbearance." Kal-El leaned toward her and touched her hand again. He used touch for punctuation, to emphasize what he was saying, and every day he did it more and more often.

Lois bit her lip, trying to steady herself. What he didn't realize was how every little touch reminded her of the mostly sterile world she lived in. No hugs from her mother, no smooches from her sister, not even the gruff shoulder-clasp that was her father's way of showing affection. Kal-El was making her think about things she thought she'd buried, reminding her how lonely she was.

Seeing the look on her face, he curled his fingers around hers, ever so gently. "There's so much I miss," Lois explained weakly. And so much she couldn't explain to him, including the real reason why she answered all of his questions.

"I wish that I could say I understand, but I cannot," Kal-El told her. "I remember when we came to this world and made it our own, but I have never truly experienced what you are feeling. I do not remember Old Krypton, for one. And we brought our culture with us when we came here. To have to adapt to a new culture and a new planet at once … it speaks volumes of humanity's versatility and courage, that you have done so well."

"You sound as if you admire us," Lois said quietly, looking down at their linked hands and wondering why he hadn't let go yet.

"I do."

"I thought we were barbarians."

"Not so. As my mother and my aunt argued at our family dinner some time ago, human society is clearly civilized, not savage. You may not be as technologically advanced as we are, but your art, your music, your poetry – these things have a vibrancy that has long been missing from Kryptonian arts. You are a young race, and you have all the vitality of youth. I think that, in the end, the events that led to your arrival here will be of benefit to both our peoples."

But he had to think that, didn't he? Otherwise he was a traitor, and the son of Jor-El was no traitor. Lois' breath caught in her throat, wanting so badly to trust him, and yet knowing that if their positions were reversed, she'd be doing everything she could to gain his trust and find out what he knew.

One thing was still clear. While she might be developing a weakness for this earnest young man, Kryptonians as a whole were still the enemy.


	12. Vaguest Stirrings of Like Minds

**As promised, the next chapter of this guy. With this, we're back on schedule. THANK GOD. XD I also want to send out my prayers and hopes to the rest of the East Coast that Irene passes quickly and safely for all of you. *hugs you all protectively***

* * *

This planet was not as seismically active as Old Krypton, and it did not have anything as spectacular as the Fire Falls or the Jewel Mountains. However, it did have a magnificent canyon located not far from the fledgling city. It was miles deep, and its sheer rock walls were striped with a fantastic palette of colors, displaying the different geological eras and mineral concentrations. On this particular day Kal-El and Lois were visiting the aptly-named Painted Canyon in company with several other Kryptonian hosts and their human guests. For the first time, more than two humans and their hosts had gathered together.

Their appearance was causing some disturbance. The Painted Canyon was a fairly popular destination, so groups of people were not uncommon. But the humans had drifted toward each other as they explored, the Kryptonians grouping together just behind them. Kal-El was in a perfect position to watch the other groups and families as they noticed the identifying crystals hung around the humans' necks. Most of them moved aside warily, and families brought their children close. For the moment the humans didn't seem to notice the consternation they were causing, too absorbed in the natural beauty around them and too relieved by the company of their own kind.

"I still feel we ought to be supervising them more closely," said Sar-Ves. He was one of the first Kal-El had contacted about this outing. His human was a few years older than Lois, and there had been some difficulties that left Sar-Ves rather uneasy about his young man. One of the purposes of this outing was paving the way for Lois to tutor him in Kryptonese and thus prevent further communication issues. Kal-El was inordinately proud that his human had a better grasp of their language than any of the other ambassadors.

"They remind me of my students," Nira Kor-En replied. She was an educator, and very patient with her charge, a man of similar white-haired years to herself. "Endlessly inquisitive and inclined to stay with their peers. Let them do as they will, Sar-Ves. They can do little harm here, in any case. Not that you would guess that by the unfounded reactions of so many other visitors."

Kal-El looked over his own group. They resembled each other much more than the humans, not having the diversity of skin, hair, and eye colors their charges sported. The many nations of Earth each had their own linguistic and cultural traditions, and most of them also had a certain look. Kal-El found that fascinating as he examined the contrasts and similarities with Lois' assistance.

Yet the differences between Kryptonians were just as marked, if not as visible to the naked eye. Sar-Ves was anxious about having a human in his home, but he had not been able to refuse the honor. His main interest in conferring with other hosts was to learn more about the humans and find ways to resolve – or better yet, prevent – conflicts.

Nira Kor-En was intrigued by humans as a whole, and considering writing a scholarly text on their culture. To that end she sought the widest possible exposure to them, and seeing them interact with one another was very informative.

Of the rest, most simply sought knowledge, and found that pooling their experience was the wisest course. Kal-El had been the one to suggest that allowing their humans to meet would relieve tensions among the guests. And an outing like this gave them neutral space in which to do so, as well as an opportunity to learn more about their hosts' world.

At the moment, there was only one other person in the group whom Kal-El believed was primarily interested in improving conditions for the humans. That was Jhan-Or, a member of the Science Council no less, and a contemporary of Jor-El. True compassion showed in his gaze as he watched the group. At the moment his human appeared to be comparing notes with Lois; certainly they spoke with their heads close together, deep in conversation. The man glanced back at the Kryptonians, saw them watching, and slipped an arm around Lois' shoulders.

Kal-El could not understand why that sight annoyed him. It was perfectly normal behavior among humans, and surely Lois would make her displeasure known if she did not welcome it.

He was brought back to the present by the conversation between Jhan-Or and Sar-Ves, in which he heard the younger man mutter something about eating utensils. Jhan-Or informed him, "Those implements which resemble ours are native to the cultures inhabiting the Asian continent, and descendants thereof. Your human, being of European extraction, will likely be more comfortable with 'forks', the ones with multiple tines."

"Such crude devices," Sar-Ves sighed. "I would sooner see him learn to use proper Kryptonian implements."

Kal-El, who had since learned that spaghetti was not a dish eaten with chopsticks, added, "Lois and I alternate between Kryptonian and human cutlery at meals. It is meant to be a cultural _exchange_, is it not?"

"What are we meant to learn from _them_?" Sar-Ves said, his eyes narrowing.

"Perhaps we are merely meant to be inspired by their youth and vitality," Jhan-Or murmured. "Krypton is old and wise, my friends, but we grow static. It is difficult to find solutions to the myriad problems this planet causes us, because many of us have lost the knack for creativity. These humans are nothing if not creative. Why, within the same community one might observe a dozen or more different methods of solving the problem of shelter."

"Quite inefficient," Sar-Ves said dryly.

"Indeed so, my friend," Jhan-Or said agreeably. "Yet there is something appealing about such diversity, is there not? Around each turn, a new wonder to behold. Further, because they pursue multiple and varied solutions, they are more capable during changing circumstances. And that adaptability is what we ought to learn from them. Its lack nearly caused the ruin of our people once."

Sar-Ves thought that over, and nodded. Kal-El managed not to smile; Jhan-Or was patient and persuasive as he himself lacked the experience to be, and he counted the scientist's attendance at this meeting a very positive sign.

"It seems to me that we would be best served by making our partnership official," Nira said. "For surely we can all benefit from one another's experience, and each of us brings a different set of skills to the continuing negotiations between humans and Kryptonians."

"That has been my hope from the first," Kal-El replied. He did not mention that, as an officially-recognized society, they would have the right to petition the government about issues of interest to them. In this case, it would mean speaking directly to Supreme Chancellor Zod about conditions for the humans.

"Do not be so eager to engage in politics, Kal-El," Jhan-Or warned. Kal-El looked at him in surprise, unaware that his intentions were so easy to read. "You young idealists have little experience in such an arena; you do not yet know how political involvement tends to expand until it has superseded every aspect of one's life. I, personally, prefer to keep our association unofficial."

That was unhappy news for Kal-El, who had hoped to have the older man's support. Sar-Ves apparently felt the same. He argued, "It is not as if we would be expected to devote ourselves completely to the human cause. This would be _our_ society, and we would be free to spend as little time on political maneuvering as possible."

"We would greatly miss your wisdom in the venture," Nira added.

"I do not mean to say I will abstain," Jhan-Or told them. "Only that I prefer not to form an official society. If I am outvoted, then I will join the society. I expect that our meetings will be too beneficial to miss."

They had reached a natural stopping point along the path that led through the canyon. Here, many thousands of years ago, the river which had cut this rift through the planet's surface had been dammed. The canyon opened up to a wide, rounded bowl, with a few thin spires of rock that had stubbornly refused to be worn down. Kal-El saw Lois staring up at one of them, her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out how such a seemingly fragile structure had resisted erosion for so long. The other humans were similarly diverted, and at the moment no other Kryptonians were in this space.

"Let us vote, then," Sar-Ves said. "All in favor of incorporating as a society?"

Kal-El had managed to get sixteen of his people to attend this meeting, and eight of them were in favor. To his surprise, only three voted against. The remaining five registered no strong opinion. Jhan-Or sighed. "The majority rules, then. And now we shall have to choose a name, create a mission statement, draft rules of conduct, and choose a leader."

"The last is easiest," Nira said. "I nominate Jhan-Or for chairman of the society."

He looked at her in obvious surprise, but Sar-Ves quickly seconded her idea and called for a vote. Kal-El was momentarily nonplussed; it had been _his_ idea, _he_ had organized this outing and all the previous meetings, so why should he not lead?

Common sense returned in time for the vote, which was overwhelmingly positive. Of course Jhan-Or made a better spokesperson and leader than Kal-El himself did. He had age and experience on his side, and he was someone whom the others could respect and follow. With him leading the society, they could expect to increase their membership swiftly.

Jhan-Or seemed less convinced. "My friends, you honor me too much. The position rightly belongs to Kal-El, as the idea was his."

Kal-El answered with a smile. "And perhaps when I have amassed one-tenth your wisdom, poise, and judgment, I will desire the position. Until then, it is yours."

Nira cut in then. "Jhan-Or, have you not read your history? Or the human's history, for that matter. The best leaders are always the ones who do not desire power, and who assume it solely out of necessity. By expressly not wishing to become embroiled in politics, you have made yourself the best possible choice for the position."

"I will remember that, Nira Kor-En, and speak more highly of those tasks I do not wish to find myself saddled with," he replied with some asperity.

One of the others in the group spoke up then, and Kal-El could not be certain who it was, his attention too fixed on Jhan-Or. "We have our chairman. Let us name our society. I propose the Benevolent Society for Human Improvement."

A few murmurs of approval greeted that, and Kal-El himself nodded. Jhan-Or, however, shook his head. "I think perhaps it would be best to place the focus on our own people. We shall have enough undue interest as it is, without seeming to be dedicated to the advancement of the race that most of our people find barbaric. Let it be called the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion."

"That sounds quite mercenary," Nira remarked.

Jhan-Or smiled. "Let it be so. We will attract less attention by putting the emphasis on the benefits to Kryptonians."

"Perhaps we have elected too subtle and devious a chairman," Sar-Ves said, clearly joking.

Jhan-Or answered him seriously. "It is unfortunate if you have, my friend. For you neglected to draw up a set of rules before electing me, and now you have no means to remove me from office if I am not to your satisfaction. Your only recourse now is to withdraw from the society and form a new one, without me."

"That is precisely why we must have _you_ as chairman, Jhan-Or," Kal-El said. "You are far wiser in the ways of politics than any of us."

"I hope that you learn swiftly, young Kal-El," Jhan-Or told him. Was it simply his imagination, or was there a conspiratorial gleam in his eye as he spoke?

He soon had more to think about than that, as Lois strolled up to him. "We'd like to follow the path around that curve," she said politely. "Will you accompany us?"

"Gladly," Kal-El replied, and escorted her over to the path. He didn't notice that the rest of the Kryptonians were hanging back, still discussing the ramifications of their decision.

For a moment, just a moment, he was alone in the midst of sixteen humans, only one of which he knew well enough to predict. And he didn't feel the slightest bit threatened or afraid as he guided them around the bend, which opened to a fantastic set of sheer walls, striped in dazzling blues and greens with occasional threads of white.

"Wow," Lois said, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight.

Kal-El smiled at her. "That is perhaps the most appropriate of all possible reactions."


	13. The Requirement of a First Step

Made it to vacation in one piece, although it will have to be severely cut back. No mountains this year. I have my fingers crossed for it in February. I miss the snow. I MISS it. Forgive the pouting. You know how I love them. So it's Orlando and no theme parks on anything. But we're out of the house. I hope it's the best three days I've had in a year. :D

Gacking a laptop, too, because guys know what vacations for the KLK writing team means. M-rated fic! Not in this 'verse, but hey. ;)

I hope you're all having a good weekend and enjoy. This one is a little longer than the last few. ;)

* * *

If Lois let herself admit it, she was nervous about this meeting. She had sounded out Chao Huang during their trip to the Painted Canyon, and he impressed her as a keen, sensible person. Just the sort she should be networking with for the sake of the nascent resistance. They hadn't had much time then, but she'd gleaned a few details. Huang was the son of a high-ranking government official, though he hadn't been particularly specific about which branch of the government. He spoke fluent English and French in addition to his native Mandarin, and he viewed everything with a patient detachment that Lois knew she lacked. Best of all, he was completely on board with the idea of an organized resistance, though he had cautioned her that not everyone would participate. Even in these conditions, some people would rather endure than risk worsening things. It was that kind of forethought that Lois knew they would need.

His host, Jhan-Or, was another matter entirely. Every time Lois looked his way on their outing, the Kryptonian was watching her, and she had the weird feeling that his gray-blue eyes saw more than she wanted him to. Inviting this man over for dinner felt like all kinds of bad idea – but it wasn't her place to say anything, since it wasn't _her_ home, it was Kal-El's, and he could invite whoever he damn well wanted.

Still, she had to deal with Jhan-Or to get to Huang, so she'd deal. When they arrived, Lois greeted them both in near-perfect Kryptonese, and was on her best behavior as the meal was served.

"A very interesting flavor in this," Jhan-Or mused over their entrée.

"It is one of the herbs cultivated by humans – basil, it is called. I have been trying to replicate and adapt human recipes," Kal-El replied.

Jhan-Or's eyebrows rose slightly. "I will assume you have acquired the plant through legal research channels."

"Of course. My mother was one of the first to cultivate them – for research purposes, of course," Kal-El said, but he looked down, and Lois tried not to wince.

"We must be careful to be observant of the law," Jhan-Or remarked. "Especially since we as hosts are representatives of the entire Kryptonian race."

And that was a veiled warning if Lois had ever heard one. Not _obey_ the law, but _observe_ it. When she glanced up, Jhan-Or met her gaze, and she saw the corners of his eyes wrinkle in what might have been the beginning of a smile.

Huang spoke up then. "It is most kind of you to attempt human cuisine. Such gestures are a reminder of our true role here."

"It is only the courtesy you are due," Kal-El told him.

Lois stifled a wry smile. Vermicelli with basil pesto wasn't exactly home cooking for either of the humans present, but compared to most Kryptonian dishes it was still comfort food. They kept to casual conversation through the majority of the meal, and only when they were finishing the final course – which was some sort of lightly sweetened ice confection – did the topic at hand turn weighty again.

"We ought to discuss those courtesies, now that you have elected me the chairman of the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion," Jhan-Or sighed.

Lois couldn't help thinking of the newly-formed society as simply B.S. The name, and the reason for it, had been explained to her; Kal-El had been eager to tell her about the decisions made during their trip. He had also questioned her closely about Huang; he sounded almost jealous. It had to be an illusion, though, and most likely Kal-El was just interested. Lois had claimed they found a lot in common as military kids, and left it at that.

"Indeed, there is much to discuss," Kal-El said slowly.

"You are thinking that such conversation ought to wait until the society meets next?" Jhan-Or asked with a smile. "Kal-El, my friend, how little you know of the workings of committees! The more people involved in any discussion, the less progress shall be made. It is better that we who are most concerned with such things discuss them amongst ourselves before bringing matters up for general discussion and voting. And I am right to assume, am I not, that the treatment of humans concerns you deeply?"

The way he asked that last made alarms go off in Lois' mind for no reason she could specify. Kal-El allowed one of his robots to refill his drinking vessel before answering. "It does concern me, Jhan-Or. Once, I witnessed a human wearing an electrical-pulse sedation device around his neck. It was quite a strange sight, until it occurred to me that such a device could be used to restrain a human. I could never bring myself to consider doing such to Lois."

"True, the high-intensity pulses cause such profound relaxation that the wearer is unable to stand, which is why such devices are worn only while one is undergoing a procedure which requires absolute calm. You are most likely correct; it was being used to control the human." Jhan-Or frowned. Lois had to wonder if he was frowning because of the collared human, or because he'd just noticed that Kal-El called her by her given name. Such informality was not yet accepted practice with other hosts and guests. It suggested either disrespect or familiarity, neither of which Jhan-Or could possibly approve of.

"In addition, the wearing of a collar-like device carries connotations of degradation and humiliation in most human cultures," Kal-El added. "That is but one example of the sort of behavior I would like to see stopped. Perhaps those who cannot control their guests without resorting to such means ought not have them."

"If I may," Huang said, and when neither Kryptonian interrupted him, he continued. "If your people are anything like mine, you will find it more difficult to convince them to stop such things by claiming it is inhumane and threatening punishment."

"Chao Huang is very wise for his age," Jhan-Or said, and Lois felt a prickle of interest at that as well. He was wise for his _age_, not for a _human_. Maybe Jhan-Or was as sympathetic to humans as Kal-El was. She'd have to get Huang alone and find out.

"So we had best approach the matter by proving the benefits to Kryptonians," Kal-El mused. "For example, ourselves. Lois and I find our daily interactions much less stressful because we have come to an understanding based on mutual respect. I suspect it is much the same with you and Chao Huang."

He'd just done it again, and Jhan-Or had definitely taken notice. Lois found that she couldn't remember when he'd stopped calling her Miss Lane, and it disturbed her that she hadn't noticed the change. It just seemed natural for him to call her Lois, and that scared her most of all.

Meanwhile, Jhan-Or was expanding upon Kal-El's point. "Indeed, by mediating such conflicts as you have described, we could free many of our brethren from the burden of anxiety. After all, none of us wished to have our routines disturbed and our liberty curtailed by the sudden arrival of strangers into our homes. It is a service which we owe our fellow Kryptonians, to liberate them from their fears and deliver them into a safe, sensible accord with our human guests."

Lois' jaw nearly dropped. Jhan-Or sounded like nothing so much as the abolitionists in her history books. Even though he was phrasing everything as beneficial to Kryptonians, the _words_ he chose were powerful, and she knew Kryptonese well enough now to know it wasn't an accident of her translation.

Kal-El seemed to sense the same thing, looking at Jhan-Or with wide eyes. "You are right, we owe our people that much, and yet more," he said quietly. "But we must show them what is possible, first, in order that they might believe and understand. I propose that we first address the question of liberty. For as you say, we find ourselves burdened by the constant supervision required of us. Why should we not petition to permit our humans some freedom of movement? It is not as if they could cause any harm. And though many of us are inclined to seek solitude in our homes, preferring to limit exposure to this uncivilized world's atmosphere, we are denying the human guests the opportunity to move about outdoors, which is natural to them."

Lois and Huang sat frozen, trying not to catch each other's gazes too obviously. Freedom of movement would mean the resistance might actually be able to _do_ something besides bolster each other's courage. They might actually find ways to have an impact. But if they appeared too eager, that might cause Kal-El to reassess his evaluation of them as harmless. Huang absorbed himself in capturing the last bit of ice, as if the discussion was of only academic interest to him.

Jhan-Or sighed and shook his head with a soft chuckle. "My young friend, it is entirely too obvious to me that your father has not seen fit to temper you in the fires of Kryptonian politics, especially in the current climate."

"I beg your pardon?" Kal-El asked, with barely-restrained affront lurking in his tone.

"One does not ask the government for permission to do that which is not forbidden," Jhan-Or said, leaning forward and pointing at Kal-El. Lois knew that gesture lent as much emphasis to his words as if he'd prodded the younger Kryptonian in the chest to punctuate his statement.

Kal-El looked utterly stunned, his jaw actually dropping. Jhan-Or continued, "We have no need to ask anyone for permission. We were never ordered to accompany the humans at all times. None of us has permitted them their liberty because we feared the repercussions of it – not from the humans, from our own people. And if we made a formal petition, there would surely be reprisal. No, it is better to simply grant such freedom to the humans we know we can trust, and say nothing of it. When it is finally noticed, it will already be an accepted practice among society."

All of them stared at Jhan-Or in stunned silence for a moment, the meal forgotten. He returned their gazes with perfect equanimity. "Do you doubt me? I certainly trust Chao Huang at liberty. He has proven his wisdom and his discretion to me many times over. I know that he will not act rashly and create a disturbance which would reflect badly upon me, his host, as well as his entire race. Since I am directly responsible for his behavior, it matters not to me what any ordinary citizen of Krypton has to say about it."

Another veiled warning, there, and Lois' admiration of Jhan-Or went up again. He had to be an experienced statesman, and Kal-El's amazement proved that allying herself with Huang would be doubly invaluable, for it would give her access to a sympathetic Kryptonian politician.

Kal-El apparently took it as something of a challenge. His earlier fear of letting Lois go out alone seemed to have evaporated. "My trust in Lois is equally secure. Assuming that she uses reasonable discretion and courtesy, which I am certain she will, I see no reason not to permit her the freedom to move about the city, beginning now." With that he turned to Lois, his tone level and casual. "My research has indicated that a brief walk after a meal is believed to be healthful. And I do remember that I promised you a daily constitutional. Would you care to take a stroll, Lois?"

If he had thrown down the gauntlet, Jhan-Or was perfectly willing to pick it up. "Chao Huang, if you wish to accompany her, you may."

They didn't even have to look at each other to decide. "It would be my pleasure," Huang said.

"And mine," Lois replied with a smile. "Thank you, Kal-El."

"I am certain that you two have matters to discuss which would be beyond our current grasp of Kryptonese," Huang added.

"And I would not bore you with minutiae," Jhan-Or told him. Lois noted that his voice sounded fond, almost paternal. That impression was strengthened by his next words. "I would suggest that you not venture far nor remain out too long. Surely you have both noticed that few Kryptonians choose to walk when hovercraft are available. It would not do to attract too much notice so early in the venture."

"Indeed not," Huang said, and after politely excusing themselves, he and Lois headed out the front door, which opened smoothly at their approach.

"I never even though to try just walking out," Lois muttered.

"Ah, but if you had done so, he wouldn't trust you enough to let you run loose," Huang replied in perfect, unaccented English. When he smiled, his ink-dark eyes twinkled merrily.

Lois smirked back. "You're right, of course." They walked in silence, and Lois knew his mind had to be racing as much as hers.

Huang was the one who, when she'd whispered 'Vive la revolution' to him on their outing to the canyon, had cautioned her about approaching others. He hadn't had time to elaborate on that, but Lois was looking forward to picking his mind now that they were finally outside their jailers' supervision.

Huang asked after a moment, "You're General Lane's daughter, right? The Vice Chief of Staff?"

Lois nodded. "All I know is that your father is in the military too."

"I'd prefer not to mention which branch," he replied, with a glance downward. "Strange, that they never thought about the risks of bringing the wives and children of military leaders here. Especially the children. I expect growing up in a military family is much the same in any first-world country."

"It probably is," Lois replied cagily, thinking about growing up on bases all over the world, moving with a moment's notice, the only stability in her life being military discipline and order at home. It left her thinking of other kids as civilians, and feeling much older than them.

Huang seemed to insinuate that he, too, had grown up more like a soldier than a normal kid. That was useful, if she could trust him. And why shouldn't she? They were all foreigners here. Lois took a deep breath, and decided to stop playing cat and mouse. "So I'm guessing you came here with at least as much military intelligence as I did, and the intention to use it?"

"You could say that, yes," Huang replied evenly. "I'll be happy to share everything I know with you, if you'll do the same."

"I don't see any reason why not." Lois shrugged.

He smiled. "Some would think that passing military secrets to a Chinese national might not be in the best interest of a United States general's daughter. But here and now, what's important is that we are both _human_. It's strange – and a little sad – that it took an alien invasion to make all of us see that."

Lois could only nod, having thought much the same thing. At this point she'd work with just about anyone, from anywhere, because all of them had the same goal: getting home. Huang had more to say, however. "I know you and the rest want to recruit aggressively for the resistance, but I would be very careful who you talk to."

"Why?" she asked. Didn't everyone want out of this situation? They could expect complete support, couldn't they?

Huang chuckled. "All teenagers are idealists if they believe in anything. Have you forgotten that some of the hostages are in their forties, a few in their fifties? And some of them are military wives, not children. They have their own strengths, but not all of them are willing to plunge into a fight, especially one they might think they can't win."

"If my mom was here, she'd be _running_ the resistance," Lois replied hotly.

"I don't doubt it," he said with a sidelong glance at her. "Some of these people would run _from_ it. They don't believe they're invincible, they're terrified over what could happen to us and to our families back home, and they probably think the best thing to do is be on our best behavior and hope the Kryptonians choose to be merciful."

Lois bit her lip. That made sense, unfortunately. There were always people who would rather do nothing than take a risk. No matter how bad things got, as long as it happened slowly, they'd stick to the status quo. "Then it's up to the rest of us," she murmured.

"Yes. We know we can trust Geoffrey – he's with Nira Kor-En. I believe Henri from Quebec was the one who started it all, but I don't know who his keeper is yet. Our biggest challenge is going to be finding each other, but your Kal-El's idea for a formal society has made it much easier."

That a sent a chill down her spine. Whether it was from the knowledge that the real work was soon to begin, or the fact that he'd referred to Kal-El as hers, Lois couldn't quite tell.


	14. Myriad Conversions in One's Perception

**Written over our vacation. Here's hoping this one is a bit of a crowd-pleaser. I think the rollercoaster is starting up, I say, winking at our regular readers. All of you know what that means. ;) Here's hoping we don't manage to disappoint.**

* * *

Kal-El and Lois were visiting the capitol building, though his mind was not on the architecture that recreated the glories of Old Krypton. Instead he was reflecting on his conversation with Jhan-Or several days ago, while Lois and Huang had been out walking.

The older Kryptonian had warned him quietly that his activities were causing his father some consternation. While their association benefited from counting a son of the House of El as a member, the patriarch was not entirely sanguine about it. "Tread carefully," Jhan-Or had said. "You are young and idealistic. I do not doubt that your intentions are the best, for our people and theirs, but you do not always think of how your actions reflect and affect those around you. So be wary, Kal-El, and when in doubt, keep silent and watch. That is half of the key to wisdom."

Because he was insatiably curious, Kal-El had asked, "And if I may be so presumptuous, what is the other half?"

Jhan-Or had smiled, his eyes bright with laughter. "The other half of wisdom is learning from those moments in which you decide to speak and act."

Kal-El was still musing on that, not paying attention to his surroundings, when his aunt and cousin approached them. "Kal-El, it is good to see you," Alura said, and only then noticed that he wasn't alone. The faintest hint of distress crossed her features, and he could guess why. Kara was beside her, and her keen blue eyes were already fixed on Lois.

"It is always a pleasure to see you, Aunt," he replied warmly. "Lois Lane, this is my aunt, Alura Zor-El, and my cousin, Kara Zor-El. Ladies, this is Lois, daughter of General Samuel Lane."

Lois knew the formal greetings already, and gave the smile and slightly deepened nod that indicated great respect. "It is an honor to meet you," she said. At the same time, Kal-El noticed the way her eyes flicked to Kara. Lois favored the young Kryptonian with an affectionate smile.

"As we are honored," Alura replied formally, but Kara did not add the expected answer. Instead she stepped back, her nose wrinkling slightly. Alura spoke softly but sternly. "Mind your manners, Kara."

The warmth faded from Lois' gaze, and she adopted an almost Kryptonian formality. "It is no insult. I have a sister the same age; sometimes children are shy."

"I am not shy," Kara said. "I simply have no wish to associate with a human."

"Kara!" Alura scolded, her expression plainly shocked. Kal-El could not help staring at his cousin in surprise. He hadn't expected such frank disdain, even knowing his uncle's opinions.

Lois appeared to take it in stride. She turned to him and asked, "Kal-El, what is the Kryptonian equivalent of 'snob'?"

Her ability to find amusement instead of offense in the situation made him laugh softly. Instead of answering her, he turned to Kara. "There is no cause to be rude, Kara. If you wish to claim superiority, you cannot behave with inferior courtesy."

Alura chuckled too, and Kara seemed momentarily bemused by the way her remark had been received. Evidently she had expected more rancor, and being met with laughter left her perplexed.

Zor-El chose that moment to arrive, and immediately made it obvious from whence Kara's ideas came. "How charming," he said dryly, eyeing Lois warily.

"Lois, my uncle Zor-El," Kal-El said. "Uncle, you are already aware that this is Lois Lane."

"Most honored to meet you, sir," Lois said, with a graceful tilt of her head that managed not to convey an ounce of the warmth she'd shown Alura and Kara, but without a trace of insult, either. In fact, it was perfectly formal, devoid of Lois' normal vibrancy and candor.

"I regret that I am unable to pass the time with you, nephew," Zor-El said in tones that made it clear he didn't regret it at all. "Unfortunately I have business to which I must attend. Further, I wish to limit my family's exposure to certain elements."

That offended Kal-El. "You do not know Lois Lane, to speak so of her," he said warningly, unaware that he looked very much like his father in that moment. The stubborn set of his and the defiant light in his eyes were pure Jor-El.

"It is not Lois Lane of which I speak, Kal-El. It is _you_." And in the stunned silence that followed that remark, Zor-El continued, "I do not know which disturbs me more: that you have devoted yourself so publicly to the humans, or that you are willing to sing the praises of Zod to further your cause. In either case, you have shown yourself to be truly the son of your father."

Kal-El felt an unseemly flush of anger creeping up his neck. The relationship between his father and uncle had become even more strained of late, with Zor-El's outspoken disapproval of Supreme Chancellor Zod and Jor-El's continued staunch support of the same. Kal-El had no wish to be caught in the midst of that battle, nor for his aunt and cousin to suffer for it.

Before he could answer rashly, Lois spoke in cool, emotionless tones. "Kal-El, you told me that Kryptonians are a rational and peaceable people. Until today, I had no cause for doubt."

The jibe clearly landed, but Zor-El merely gave her a thin smile. "Ah yes, I am branded mad, for I dare to speak truth to power. His father whom Kal-El so admires would quail from the mere thought of doing so. And yet I find it amusing that _you_ show me disdain. For unlike my nephew, I would swiftly send you and your kind home to Earth and leave you there, untroubled by Kryptonians. You have no place in our new world."

Kal-El saw Lois' eyes widen, saw how painful her captivity still was. He answered Zor-El in bored tones. "You speak of theory, Uncle. In practice, neither of us has the power to send Lois and the other humans home. That decision rests with the Science Council."

Zor-El scoffed. "It rests with Dru-Zod, and Dru-Zod alone. The council scurries to anticipate his whims so that they may not find themselves in the dreadful position of opposing him." He took a half-step closer, eyeing Kal-el interestedly. The older Kryptonian had often been fond of posing tests of logic to his nephew, and those inquiries were not always pleasant, though they did have the effect of making Kal-El more thoughtful. "Politics is debatable at any hour of the day. I am more interested in your intentions, nephew. Given the opportunity, would you or would you not return Lois and her people to their rightful home?"

He could feel Lois' keen gaze upon him, but that would not change his answer. Nor would the wary look in Alura's eyes. "Considering that they are here against their will, no other ethical option exists but to send the humans home. Their leaders are now aware of our might and of the consequences of further rash behavior, and we have no need to belabor our point further. I would, of course, invite Lois to remain, though I doubt that she would do so. Our world is simply too foreign."

"So you would sacrifice your research for your principles. How noble." Zor-El looked thoughtful, not sarcastic. Alura sighed in relief, and even Kara looked content that Kal-El would choose to send the humans away.

It was a pity he had to shatter their complacency. "On the contrary, Uncle, in the purely theoretical situation of which we speak, I would not forsake my studies. I would follow Lois to Earth and conduct my research there."

All of them were struck silent by that pronouncement, even Lois looking amazed. At last, Zor-El laughed. "And they say that _I_ am unbalanced! Forgive me for having implied you are as much a dreamer as your father, Kal-El. You have _far_ surpassed him."

Alura laughed too, though her voice betrayed nervous tension. "It is most fortunate that you are speaking hypothetically, Kal-El."

He shrugged, a gesture he had acquired from Lois. "I assure you, I am aware of the present dangers. It is not something I would lightly attempt. Yet if circumstances were so arranged that Lois could return to her home, I would like to accompany her. Where better to study to humanity than in its native environment?"

The announcement only garnered blank, shocked stares, even from Lois. Kal-El appealed to his aunt. "Alura, you are a linguist. Would you not wish to hear the many tongues of Earth spoken naturally, in everyday conversation? Would you rather study a language vibrant and ever-evolving in the land of its birth, or merely learn from samples cultivated and examined here?"

Of course she couldn't refute that. "It would be a dream – and only a dream, Kal-El. The issues of safety cannot be lightly put aside, and we must deal with the practical realities of the world we live in rather than logical constructs and theories." There was a trace of sadness in her voice even though she was espousing her husband's philosophy.

"Indeed we must," Zor-El said. "Unfortunately the practical reality of the moment is that we have appointments to keep. However, I look forward to debating this issue with you in the future, nephew."

They said their goodbyes, and once again Lois' gaze lingered on Kara. Now the young Kryptonian looked up at her with more curiosity and less scorn, though there was still a healthy amount of the latter. Kal-El and Lois headed home in much the same preoccupied manner with which they had toured the capitol.

Once they were in the hovercraft, he turned to Lois and said quietly, "I value your opinion, Lois. Tell me truthfully, how do you think I would fare on your world?"

She nibbled at her lower lip, a gesture he found charming even though it denoted indecision. "Honestly? I wouldn't trust you alone on the streets of any major American city. You'd look like a tourist. Anyone would be able to tell you weren't from around there, and you'd get mugged in about five minutes." Lois winced to say it, looking askance at him.

"I would need a guide, someone to show me how to behave so as not to attract undue attention," he mused. Kal-El wondered if she saw the parallel to her own situation; under his tutelage she had adapted herself to this world so thoroughly that no one suspected she was human. At least not until they saw the necklace she wore.

"I'd still be worried," Lois admitted. "Kal-El, you're a big guy, but there's no meanness in you. You're not intimidating, and sometimes a person has to be a little tough, a little hardcore, to get along in my world."

Kal-El smiled at her. "That is why I would prefer to have _you_ as my guide. You have resiliency to spare." Lois laughed at that, and they lapsed back into the casual conversation that was quickly becoming the norm between them.

…

Later that evening, long after Lois had retired for the night, and in truth long after Kal-El should have retired as well, he was still awake and pondering. His highly theoretical answer to his uncle's challenge had sparked a highly improbably line of thought that, while so far-fetched as to be ridiculous, would not be denied.

What if he _could_ somehow, some way, go to Earth? Would it not be amazing to see Lois' world firsthand, to experience its sights and sounds for himself? He could not begin to see how that would be possible, but his fertile imagination was more captivated by the wonder of the idea than by practical considerations.

Kal-El was deep in contemplation of Lois' own home city, when he heard the sound. The towering skyscrapers vanished from his mind as he paused, frowning in concentration. What an odd noise….

The second time he heard it, he identified it as Lois' voice, but with a strange tone that disquieted him. Kal-El hurried to her room, hearing the noise grow louder. It was definitely Lois, calling out wordlessly. She sounded distraught, and he worried for her.

He touched the panel beside her door, but it did not open. Of course not, he had promised her privacy. But that did him no good now, with Lois' pained cries ringing in his ears. Kal-El called her name, raising his voice. He could not allow her to be harmed, he simply could not.

She did not answer in words, but by the tone of her voice she was deeply hurt or afraid. The sound of her distress frightened him; what could bring the courageous Lois to such a point? Kal-El forgot decorum, shouting her name, and smacked the impenetrable door with both palms in his frustration.

That seemed to reach her, for the next thing he knew the door was opening to reveal a wild-eyed Lois, dressed in an Earth-style sleeping garment. Her face was damp, her hair in disarray, and she was trembling with fear. At the moment she seemed to barely recognize him. And for an instant, he her. In all of her time here, he'd never seen her in a state of blind panic. "Lois, what is wrong?" he asked her urgently. She blinked up at him, comprehension clearly dawning. Whatever the trouble was, it had evidently ended, and relief flooded him.

And then Lois flung herself at him without warning, wrapping her arms around his chest, still shivering as if chilled. Her tear-streaked face pressed against his neck as she clung to him as if he were the only safety in a world of threat.

The young man froze at that. For a single instant Kal-El felt the instinctive urge to shove her away, to resist this abrupt and unwelcome intrusion. But a stronger instinct surfaced, and the desire to protect her overwhelmed him. Kal-El embraced Lois, holding her tightly against him, and the unnatural contact was oddly reassuring.

Still he worried, and drew back slightly to look into her eyes for any further sign of fear or pain. He saw neither, but there was something fey about her expression, some strange mingling of relief, fear, and tension. A nameless emotion tugged at his soul as their gazes met and locked, like a magnetic current drawing them both within its influence. _Something_ was about to him, he was filled with a vague yet powerful premonition of profound occurrences.

Yet Lois still caught him completely by surprise when she broke contact, rose up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his.


	15. A Grounding Illumination in the Night

**And yes, to the gentlemen reading this fic, the action aspect of the story is amping up. No worries on that front; however, this is going to be an important part of the final plot. No worries. ;)**

* * *

Lois walked out of the second videoconference, feeling proud of herself for having passed on the news to her father that the resistance was gaining strength. She and the other humans now had freedom of movement, which meant it was only a matter of time before they would be able to pool their knowledge and figure out a way to sabotage the Kryptonians' superior weaponry, or somehow get themselves home. Satisfaction put a lift in the step and a smile on her face.

Until the dark-haired Kryptonian woman in the black uniform, the one she'd seen before, stepped out in front of her. She glared at Lois with eyes like black ice, and said flatly, "Seize her."

A steel robot hovering nearby clamped claws like manacles around Lois' upper arms. There was no time to run, and no room to fight. She could either walk where the robot directed her, or be dragged. The Kryptonian woman turned and led the way into a forbidding-looking crystal structure.

Twisting and lunging from side to side anyway, desperate trying to break the robot's implacable grip, Lois was forced into a bright white room. Several more robots lined the walls. Her captor turned to examine her with the cold detachment of an entomologist studying a butterfly on a pin. "You will tell us everything you know about the human resistance, and give us all information you have passed on to your co-conspirators," she said.

"The hell I will," Lois snarled defiantly. The situation was already hopeless, but she wouldn't be cowed. She knew full well that everyone broke under torture eventually. Her only hope was to lie, often and creatively, and hope that when they finally got the truth from her they would discount it as another lie. That way she could at least protect the other humans.

The woman arched one dark eyebrow. "You seem to have misunderstood, human. That was not a request. It was a statement of fact." She lifted her chin at someone behind Lois, and said, "Begin the extraction."

The robot holding her extended additional arms to grip her head tightly, preventing even the slightest movement. Another robot moved silently forward to hover in front of Lois. It had several arms, one of which had a crystal mounted in the end. That crystal moved toward Lois' forehead, shining with its own light as it did.

Only when she felt the heat against her skin did she understand that it was a laser. They meant to _literally_ extract the information, directly from her brain, and to do it while she was _conscious_.

As the laser seared through her skin and a horrible burning smell filled the air, Lois began to scream.

…

Caught in the nightmare, Lois thrashed and moaned, oblivious to the real world. Only when Kal-El slammed his hands against her door and shouted did the sound startle her awake.

She took a moment, panting and soaked in fear-sweat, just to realize that it had been a dream. It had all been so real, even the scent of burning flesh had seemed real, and Lois shuddered to remember it. Her heart thundered in her chest, and the lingering terror of the dream seemed to have followed her into wakefulness.

The truth was, the nightmare could all too easily become real, and she knew it. But on the other side of her door was someone who sounded as distraught as she felt, and Lois climbed shakily out of bed to go to him. She opened the door, not thinking about the fact that she was wearing a nightgown, not thinking about anything but the desperate need to ground herself in reality.

Kal-El was wild-eyed, her fear reflected in his urgent gaze as he searched for the source of her distress. A storm of emotion was sweeping through her: creeping horror from the nightmare, overwhelming relief at waking up, crushing anxiety from taking part in the conspiracy, and pervasive loneliness. That Kal-El truly cared about her, his concern written starkly on his face, broke the last of Lois' resistance to trusting him. She flung herself into his arms thoughtlessly.

He should've drawn back. Holding hands was an intimacy reserved for married couples in private settings; a full-on embrace, her damp face burrowed against his neck, should have been far too much for the Kryptonian to tolerate. Lois wasn't thinking, or she would never have intruded on him like that.

And yet, he didn't shove her away and run for a shower to get rid of her icky human germs. Kal-El embraced her, holding her close. It had been far too long since she'd felt someone's arms around her in genuine affection. The hugs shared between the members of the resistance were a convenient method of making their captors look away, not an expression of fondness. But this was a strong, sure hug, one that spoke volumes about his attitude toward her.

In that instant Lois knew she could trust him. Kal-El didn't see her as a specimen to be studied or a potential spy to be investigated. He saw her as a person, one equal to himself, and he always treated her with courtesy, consideration, and compassion. He had been completely serious when he named himself her friend. And she needed a friend now, badly. The more stress she subjected herself to in gathering and passing information for the resistance, the more she would need to rely on his honesty and kindness. Even if she could never completely confide in him….

He _was_ Kryptonian; there was no getting around that fact. But he was also her friend, and at the moment Lois needed to soak up all the comfort and reassurance he could offer her. She burrowed into his embrace, savoring the feeling of safety she'd missed since she'd first heard she was coming here. Kal-El, for his part, showed no reluctance at holding her.

After a moment, though, he drew back slightly, and her cheeks began to flush. Of course she'd overstayed her welcome. A hug for comfort was one thing, but she was a fool to expect prolonged contact. Abashed, Lois looked up at him with tears still blurring her vision, but saw no distaste in his gaze, only worry. His hands lightly cupped her face, his royal blue eyes searching for the cause of her distress.

She knew what it meant that he would touch her, that he would step so far out of what was acceptable for him to offer her comfort. And at the moment she was a sea of turbulent emotion, only gradually stilling under the influence of his touch. Lois wanted to tell him a thousand things: that she was grateful for him, that she cherished his kindness, that she trusted him alone of all his kind. She wished then that they could have met under other circumstances. If she wasn't a hostage and he wasn't one of her captors, who knows what sort of friendship could blossom between them?

She had no words for any of that, not at the moment. Lois still felt like a pinball shot into a maze and clanging off every emotion possible in mere seconds. When her heart finally came to something like rest, it was nowhere she would ever have expected.

Lois rose up on her toes and kissed Kal-El. Out of affection, out of gratitude, out of relief and fear in uneasy mixture, out of a craving for something sane and familiar, out of some weird wish that they could be just a guy and girl and not tangled up in political intrigue and espionage, she couldn't tell. Lois was operating on instinct, and instinct told her to kiss him. When the knight in shining armor saved the damsel in distress, she gave him a kiss—that was the way it always went in stories.

What he should've done then was be horrified. She knew that even as she pressed her lips to his, but at the moment she didn't care. Somehow this put the seal on everything, her trust in him, his concern for her, all the other things Lois couldn't name or comprehend.

He didn't yank himself away from her, though. Kal-El froze for an instant, and then ran his hands into Lois' hair, kissing her back just as urgently.

The shock of it finally forced Lois into full awareness. Here she was, wearing only a nightgown, standing on the threshold of her bedroom, and sharing a greedy kiss with a very handsome young man. It sounded like the setup of a romance novel, and the absurdity of it made her pull away, stunned.

Kal-El blinked at her as if just coming awake himself. He looked as flummoxed as she felt, and Lois had to pity him. No one around here ever did that; the intensity of the taboo was beyond her ability to measure.

His face turned brick red, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. "I … I am sorry, Lois. I do not know why I did that."

"It's all right," she said, trying to regain her equilibrium. "I started it. I guess … I don't know. I'm sorry, too. I know you don't…."

But she trailed off then. He wasn't looking at her like a man disgusted with himself, horrified by his own behavior. Surprised, yes, but not sickened. Instead there was a dawning curiosity in his gaze. "You have no need to apologize. It was not…. Are you truly all right, now?"

She couldn't help it, her old insouciance rising up to fill the void left by bewilderment. "After a kiss like that, you probably chased off my nightmares for good. I'm fine."

"Good," he said, nodding slightly. "Very good. I shall … I shall finish my studies. Good night to you, Lois."

"Good night, Kal-El," she replied, trying not to grin at the way he seemed to float down the hallway. The poor guy had never been kissed, and here was Lois Lane laying one hell of a smooch on him. It'd be enough to turn anyone's head.

Only after the door closed and she was safely back in bed did worry creep in. All along, Lois had known that she was safe here because Kryptonians didn't touch, ever. There would be no physical violence, no abuse, no molestation. And yet in only a couple of months she'd found a Kryptonian willing to ignore his culture's restrictions enough to kiss her.

Or more worrisome, she'd created one. What if by exposing Kal-El to so much human culture and to her own expectations of normal behavior, she had changed him, awakened some buried instinct better left untouched? No Kryptonian woman would have ever hugged and kissed him, that was for sure.

She should have been afraid, and she was, a little. Lois had started something unexpected and unpredictable by kissing him. She couldn't figure out where this might lead, but it probably wasn't going to be sunshine and roses.

And where the hell was her own mind in all of this? The General's daughter knew better than to smooch the enemy. Only Kal-El wasn't her enemy. It was an accident of fate that he happened to be of the same race as the oppressors. She was certain that not only would he release her if he could, but that he would have protested the conquest of Earth if it had been feasible.

_It's always feasible. Protest is always an option, even in the face of overwhelming odds. The problem is, most people won't stand up even when they hate what's happening, because they're too afraid of being knocked down._ That was the General in her head, and Lois bridled at the intrusion. Kal-El was _not_ a coward. He was kind and smart…

…and she was defending him automatically, thinking about him in ways she really, _really_ shouldn't. A chill ran down Lois' spine at that. She wasn't attracted to him, was she? Worriedly, she searched her own feelings, turning her keen perception on herself.

Oh, hell. She was a healthy teenager, after all, and younger than any other human on this planet by at least four years. Now that she had adjusted to life on New Krypton, it was to be expected that some measure of normalcy would return. And that included crushes on boys.

Not this one. No way, no how. He was her _jailer_, for all that he was a compassionate one, and her goal was to _escape_. Mooning around over a handsome boy wasn't in the picture. Not to mention, if the resistance had an inkling of how fond she was of him already, they'd mistrust her. And his own people, surely they would be horrified that she'd corrupted a noble son of Krypton. If they found out, they'd probably send her back to Earth and demand another hostage in her place, which would be either Momma or Lucy.

That struck like a blow to the gut. No, she wouldn't let that happen. She wouldn't betray her people, and she wouldn't ruin Kal-El in the eyes of his. Lois Lane certainly had willpower enough to resist a silly crush and complete her mission.

She lay awake until dawn reminding herself of that.


	16. Feet in the Air and Head on the Ground

Kal-El moved about in a stupor for some time after the unexpected kiss. It was only once he realized that he'd read the same passage of his research text five times without an iota of comprehension that it occurred to him that certain precautions ought to be taken.

So far they had not found any dangerous illnesses among the humans, but no one had experienced quite that level of contact. Therefore a cleansing was in order, and he spent extra time in the ultrasonic shower. Redressing in clean clothing, he ordered a cup of tea from his robots—that human beverage was quite pleasing to his palate—and returned to his work. As an extra precaution, he had his robots scan his vital signs.

The rest of that night passed uneventfully, but the next day Kal-El still felt out-of-sorts. He was distracted and restless, and found himself swinging between being terribly embarrassed over what had happened and annoyed with Lois, who was avoiding him while trying to make it seem like she wasn't. His state of mind, in her idiom, was simply 'freaked out'. The fear of having contracted some strange human illness resurfaced, and Kal-El left the house to go get a full medical evaluation.

His symptoms were vague: a generalized feeling of malaise, some anxiety, and the aforementioned inability to concentrate. Tenna Zar-Dah, the physician who took those notes, looked mildly interested and had him spend nearly an hour under the diagnostic crystal. "Kal-El, you appear to be in excellent health," she told him at the end of the scan, looking over his results. "All systems are functioning within normal range—yet I notice that you consistently score in the high end of normal. I suspect that your symptoms may be due to stress."

"That is a relief to hear," Kal-El replied. Of course, stress could cause a wide variety of nebulous symptoms, and he should have suspected it earlier. With that news, he decided to attribute the incident the night before to emotional instability, and think no more on it. There was no use pondering that kiss….

Tenna Zar-Dah looked at him piercingly and asked, "Are you by any chance hosting a human?"

Kal-El grew wary. "Yes, I am." He did not confide his earlier suspicion that he might have contracted an illness from Lois. The last thing he wanted was to attract suspicion.

"Interesting. This week I have treated three stress-related cases, all in individuals hosting humans. One quite severe, in fact. It is unsurprising, given that having a new sentient species in one's home is something for which no one can prepare. However, it is a pity that those who have the chance to observe humans are so deeply perturbed by them."

She sounded almost wistful, so Kal-El delved deeper into the topic. "Are you perhaps a host yourself?"

"Sadly, no. I was deeply absorbed in a difficult case when the request for volunteers went out, and so my name was among the last on the list. A missed opportunity." She shook her head, as if to dismiss the subject.

An idea glimmered in Kal-El's mind, and he sat forward. "You said that one of your patients was severely stressed. Would it not be wise to remove the source of their stress? You could, as the individual's physician, recommend that they transfer custody of their human guest. Surely you would be among the first choices for a host."

That gave the physician pause. "That would be an elegant solution indeed. I am only concerned that the office of human affairs might not allow it."

"Surely they must. It is the best course for all involved—relief for your patient, a stable situation for the human, and no need for the Office of Human Affairs to search for a willing host," Kal-El argued. "If you like, I could bring the situation to the attention of Jhan-Or, who is the chairman of the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion."

She smiled warmly at the name. "Jhan-Or? He was one of my instructors. I had no idea he was even involved in such a project. By all means, please do request his assistance."

Kal-El left with a sense of personal satisfaction, and a challenge. Perhaps if they could make a legitimate medical case for transferring humans to different hosts, he could make some headway toward getting humans into better situations. That one collared man would not leave Kal-El's mind until he found a means of freeing him. With that in mind, he used the holographic communicator in his hovercraft to arrange a meeting with Jhan-Or.

…

Jhan-Or turned out to be one step ahead of Kal-El. "I already have a contact within the Office of Human Affairs who can smooth this transaction for us," he replied when Kal-El laid out the situation. "It is extraordinarily lucky that you have managed to recruit Tenna Zar-Dah to our society."

"I am not yet certain that she can be considered a recruit," Kal-El said.

"Ah, but I remember her mind well. She will join our society because it is the most logical course of action. We all have more experience with humans than she does. And I am certain that she will come to support our cause because of its intrinsic merits."

"Her support will be most useful," Kal-El mused. "Sound medical reasons for transferring the guardianship of humans would allow us to arrange for all of them to find secure and stable situations."

Jhan-Or nodded. "Indeed. Incidentally, we could also arrange for all of the humans to be housed by members of the society, which has its own advantages."

Something about the way he phrased it made Kal-El look at him piercingly. "Why do I suspect you have a subtler motive, Jhan-Or?"

The older Kryptonian cut him a look that silenced him. "I have no idea why you would entertain such notions, Kal-El. I have been open and honest with you from the first."

"But not with the other members of the society," Kal-El couldn't help pointing out.

Jhan-Or sighed. They were walking along a little-used path through a half-finished crystal garden, the location of Jhan-Or's choosing. "Kal-El, I trust your heart, but not your mind. Do you understand me? I believe that you seek nothing but the most optimal conditions for humans and Kryptonians, and you strive for that goal without the least blemish of ambition."

"You are correct in that, but why do you not trust my mind?" Kal-El asked.

"_Because_ you have no ambition, no subtlety, no devious cunning. You are an honest and forthright young man." Jhan-Or stopped suddenly and turned to face Kal-El, his eyes stormy. "We are in agreement on the key issues: that the current treatment of humans on this planet is unsatisfactory, and that it is our duty as men of honor to correct that wherever possible. The deeper issues, I _suspect_ we agree on, but I do not care to discuss them, not even in so private a place."

A thought came to Kal-El then: Jhan-Or wanted to free the humans and end the war between their peoples. It was a thought that lurked in the back of his mind, one which he had never voiced even to himself. Because freeing the humans and ending the war would mean arguing against Supreme Chancellor Zod. And even his father, with all of his wisdom and political acumen, feared to oppose Dru-Zod.

Jhan-Or nodded slowly. "I see the course of your thought by your expression, Kal-El. You are right to be afraid. We are already treading a dangerous path, and only the utmost circumspection can preserve us. And you, being young and idealistic and sheltered from political realities as all your generation are, I doubt you have the necessary stealth and guile."

So Jhan-Or _did_ have plans. "You are correct, I have no experience of politics, and no knowledge of subterfuge," Kal-El said carefully. "But I learn swiftly, Jhan-Or. And this cause is one to which I am deeply committed."

"Lois Lane," was all the older Kryptonian said in reply.

Kal-El felt his lip curl slightly with anger. "She is not an unreasoning beast. She is a thinking, feeling, sentient _person_. In some ways I think her wiser than myself. Any one of us who fails to see that is blinded by prejudice."

"And you would tear aside the veil that blinds them and let the pitiless rays of truth shine into their withered eyes," Jhan-Or replied. "A noble sentiment, Kal-El, but a rash one. The key to any political machination is _patience_. There are times when bold, decisive action is called for, and we have not yet arrived at such a time."

"I trust you to inform me when that time does arrive," Kal-El replied.

Jhan-Or touched his shoulder then, just for an instant. "If you trust me, then, understand that there are certain matters of which I will not confide in you. It is not from lack of trust. You lack neither courage nor integrity, and I am glad to have those traits at my side. I simply prefer to keep some matters unspoken, where I know I have only myself to blame if anything should go wrong."

Kal-El only nodded. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he proved himself discreet and conscientious enough, Jhan-Or would choose to share some of those matters with him. Until then he would be content in his current role.

…

Kal-El arrived home to a message from his father, requesting to speak to him at his earliest opportunity. He initiated the holographic communicator connection to reply, and Jor-El greeted him with a hint of trepidation. "My son, I had not expected you to be out today."

"I visited a physician for a routine scan, Father," Kal-El replied. It would not be wise to let Jor-El even consider the possibility that he could contract an illness from Lois. He would never hear the end of the debate that would cause.

"And you stopped on the way back to your home to converse with Jhan-Or," Jor-El sighed. "Tell me, my son, in what sort of madness has that wily old politician gotten you involved?"

"Jhan-Or is the chairman of the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Advancement, of which I am a member," Kal-El replied stiffly.

Jor-El looked annoyed. "A founding member. Yes, I am aware of that as well. Jhan-Or also involves himself far more deeply in politics than you can even conceive. I know he often claims to abhor political affairs, and it is true that he has never been the face of any major organization. On the surface, he seems nothing more than an accomplished biologist who won his position on the Science Council by pure scientific achievement.

"Yet Jhan-Or is always at the fringes of any new development. He has been in conversation with your uncle, trying to temper my brother's outspoken ways. When Dru-Zod was forced to seize command of the Council to save us all, Jhan-Or was one of those who sided with him—not openly as I did, but quietly. I doubt anyone other than Dru-Zod and myself even knew where he stood on the matter."

"I had noticed his subtlety," Kal-El said dryly.

Jor-El's tone was acerbic when he retorted, "You have not yet had the opportunity to notice how, no matter what situation in which Jhan-Or involves himself, he is somehow never to blame for any adverse outcome. _That_ role is always taken by a younger, more volatile person, one who becomes passionately involved in a cause but who lacks Jhan-Or's caution."

A chill ran down Kal-El's spine at that. Was this the reason why Jhan-Or seemed to be cultivating him? To have a scapegoat in case his machinations went sour? And yet, who else had Jhan-Or's experience and willingness to intervene? "I appreciate the forewarning, Father," Kal-El said, keeping his voice level.

Jor-El simply nodded, his warning delivered. "In more pleasant news, I originally sought you out to ask you to dinner two nights hence."

That was earlier than usual; Kal-El normally dined with his family in the latter part of the week. "I would be delighted," he replied.

Jor-El nearly beamed. "Excellent. Councillor Ler-Ol will be joining us."

Kal-El felt his lip start to curl in the sardonic smile he'd acquired from associating with Lois, and controlled his expression. "Ah. And Lyla Ler-Ol will be with him, I assume?"

"Indeed she shall. Accordingly, my son, I must ask you not to bring Lois Lane with you on this visit."

Kal-El had been trying to get Lois back into his father's house, just for a visit. His mother still asked after her, and Kal-El also wanted to show his father how much differently Lois behaved when she was treated as an equal and an ally. This would not be the time. "Understood, Father," Kal-El said.

He ended the conversation after a few more pleasantries, and then sat staring at the blank screen, wondering why he was decidedly unenthusiastic at this news. Lyla Ler-Ol was an interesting conversationalist, as was her father. She had aspirations of being a professional actress, a much narrower field on Krypton than it was on Earth, and a more respected if less celebrated one. He was a chemist bemused by his daughter's artistic leanings. The family had been friends of the House of El for generations.

And it was no secret to Kal-El why his father had been inviting them over so often of late. His research into human cultural customs had shown him some societies in which parents had absolutely no say over whom their children chose to marry, and others in which the parents decided that matter while the children were still very young. Among Kryptonians, a match was most often arranged mutually by the parents and the adult children. No honorable Kryptonian man would conceive of marrying against his father's wishes, just as no Kryptonian parent would force a child into a marriage against his or her will.

Yet it was a subtle, careful kind of pressure. Jor-El and Lara approved of Lyla, and her father approved of Kal-El. The match could be made at any time; both of them were legal adults, even though they still had some years before their parents' generation would cease to think of them as wild-eyed youths. The only thing holding them back was—them.

Lyla was far more focused on her desired career than on marriage, and Kal-El found his research more fascinating than potential wedded bliss. It was important, of course, to have a partner, and not only for the continuation of the House of El. Companionship was important for mental health and emotional stability, and every married couple Kal-El knew extolled the virtues and enjoyed the benefits of matrimony.

Still, he did not yet feel as if _he_ particularly required a full-time companion. His home was arranged exactly as he liked it, and his studies were largely uninterrupted. Lois did interject a certain amount of unpredictability and chaos into his life, but Kal-El felt that was healthy. She challenged him in ways few others ever could, and he could almost feel his perception expanding with each new test.

And now that he had thought of Lois, Kal-El knew for certain that he could not get married while he had guardianship of her. He spent much of his time interacting with her, and a wife would not particularly appreciate that, especially not if she did not share his fascination with humans—and Lyla did not. She was not prejudiced as many were, but the humans' presence here had so far had little impact on her life, and she dismissed them as uninteresting. It was the first serious difference of opinion he had had with her.

The more he thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. Kal-El had grown accustomed to having Lois in his home, and they had adapted their daily routines to each other's presence. He felt genuine fondness for her, and hoped she felt the same for him. His days had a rhythm now that would be fragmented by the introduction of any other person. There were many things Kal-El wished to change about the world he lived in, but his life was as pleasantly well-ordered now as he could make it.

Besides which, he could not predict Lois' reaction to Lyla. So far she had a bond of trust with him, and him only. A new person in the house might set her back to the sullen, defensive young woman he'd despaired of ever connecting with. And furthermore, Lyla certainly would not want to live in a house with a human, since she knew next to nothing about them and had no interest in learning.

No, he was safe from needing to make a decision about marriage for some time. With that knowledge secure, Kal-El could look forward to the family dinner and the latest news from the House of Ol.


	17. These Men of Steel, These Men of Power

**Finally, after three months, we have gotten it back in gear and are proud to present to you this first chapter of _ATU _for 2012. Expect the schedule to be back on track, with the next chapter coming in two weeks. Sorry we've been away for so long and we hope that hearing from another quarter this chapter will make up for that just a bit.**

**Thanks for sticking by us, guys!**

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"Damned idiots," General Sam Lane growled under his breath, glaring at the highly classified report on his desk. "Should've known better."

The previous night, guerilla forces had made a sortie against the Kryptonian salt-mining operation at the Dead Sea. No group or government had yet claimed responsibility for the attack, but the Kryptonians had already retaliated. Not only were the tanks and weaponized vehicles disabled by the same crystal growth that had shut down the entire world's missile capability, but an electromagnetic pulse had been released that effectively destroyed every piece of electrical equipment for fifty miles. That included parts of Jerusalem's West Bank and some small cities in Jordan.

Every human-owned commercial mineral extraction plant had been shut down, too, with all of their equipment down after the EMP. The Kryptonians' crystal-based tech worked just fine after a brief hiatus. All the guerrillas had accomplished was to give the Kryptonians a monopoly on the mineral they needed.

That, and they'd further antagonized the Kryptonians. Nations were holding their collective breath, waiting to see what the aliens would demand in retribution. More hostages? The lives of some of the hostages they already held? Currently military intelligence suggested the latter was unlikely. Kryptonians had no death penalty, and they had not yet employed violence against any human.

Sam was certain of that. He was seeing his daughter regularly via videoconference, and she showed surprisingly few signs of stress. All of her coded messages through that medium also claimed she was fine, and actively working with the resistance on New Krypton.

Most likely there would be no retribution. This Zod character styled himself a superior creature, and he was wisely counseled. He would ignore the attack the way a grown man would ignore the taunt of a child, treating the human aggression as insignificant. Which, in this case, it had proved to be.

Although there _were_ some benefits. Sam and his superiors now had a better idea of how any future hostilities would be met, and they'd seen another demonstration of the crystals' growth pattern. A few samples had made it back to the labs in time for analysis, and the human scientists had come to a startling conclusion.

The Kryptonians weren't mining salt for dietary supplements as had first been supposed. It was a key ingredient in their crystal-growing process, and _everything_ in that society ran on crystals. Homes, vehicles, tools, educational devices, all of it was grown from crystal. And those crystals grew fastest in salt water.

Water vapor in the air, or fresh water in rain, could also stimulate crystal growth, but it was slower and more controlled. Two samples of Kryptonian crystal, one placed into fresh water, one into salt, had differing completion times. Extrapolating from the relatively small samples they had, the researchers had theorized that using fresh water instead of saline could slow down construction by more than half. And that, on a new world in which everything had to be built from scratch, must have been well-night intolerable.

Lois had told him how things that seemed wondrous to the hostages were scoffed at by Kryptonians. The improvements they'd made to their new planet were seen as paltry, makeshift, at times crude, and everyone chafed at the slowness of progress. The world they'd come from had been almost completely covered in crystal, a planet whose entire surface had been tamed. Only a few truly natural areas had remained, and those were more like parks than wildernesses. The idea of living as humans lived, with trackless forests and unplumbed seas still a part of their world, was abhorrent to Kryptonians.

That was the real value of the intelligence being gathered—insights into Kryptonian psyche that they couldn't have gained any other way. And Lois was the best at it. She understood her captors as did no other, and her jailer foolishly tried to be her friend, offering her astounding amounts of information. At first Sam had thought this Kal-El might be trying to feed Lois false information, but she assured him repeatedly that the boy was completely incapable of subterfuge. And all of his information checked out, besides.

Of course all of that hadn't just been relayed in a few videoconferences. The first pressing need they'd felt had been for a more regular and secure flow of information, and Sam had been integral in designing it.

He was well aware of the black market and its potential. The Kryptonians on New Krypton were curious about Earth culture, and the Kryptonians here longed for home, so it was only natural for trade to develop between them. As to how the Kryptonians manning the mining operation got hold of human artifacts and other things, of course the world's leading governments had ensured that they would be able to do so. Elite Delta Force operators, disguised as common soldiers, had struck up a sort of friendship with the Kryptonians on Earth, and they gave gifts—in exchange for certain considerations. Among those was the transport of letters from families to their loved ones on New Krypton, and of course the replies came back along the same route.

His first letter to Lois had been a simple missive telling her how proud he was of her, and enclosing a photo of the family. Her reply had been just as innocuous, and neither transaction had been discovered. Now they were working in a previously established multipart code to pass messages within the letters. What looked like a stray dot of ink next to certain letters marked them out as part of a hidden message, and certain whole words and phrases were pre-existing codes.

Other countries and their operatives were doing the same thing, and at the moment they were all cooperating—more or less. The usual political idiots were blustering, but for the most part military men the world over understood the situation. All of humanity was in this together, for better or for worse. They were like siblings who fought each other tooth and nail until an outsider made the mistake of picking on one of them, and then the whole brood turned and fought as one. Sam remembered the phenomenon well from his youth, and saw it in his own daughters. Lois and Lucy might argue, but if anyone even _dreamed_ of threatening the younger girl, Lois would go after them in a flash. She had a good head on her shoulders, his Lois; if only she'd been a boy, she would've been perfect. As it was she was as close to perfect as a daughter could hope to get.

A little frost touched Sam's heart at the thought; Lois was presently playing the most dangerous game known to man: espionage. And she was a green teenager doing it, though he'd seasoned her as well as he could. He knew grown men who couldn't have kept their heads in her situation, and here she was showing nerve and mettle far beyond her years. Lois was deep in the councils of the resistance; she had more freedom than any other hostage, as her warden was a bit of a soft touch.

It still worried Sam that she'd been given into the keeping of a boy barely older than herself. What were these Kryptonians thinking? He was a civilian, the son of a high-ranking scientist, and by Lois' accounts he was something of a dreamer. The sort of boy who, had he been human, would've benefitted from some sharp discipline in his life to focus him. Sam invariably recommended armed service to such; it made men out of feckless boys. But in this circumstance, the softness of Lois' captor worked to their advantage, so Sam welcomed it even as he scoffed at the Kryptonians' lack of military acumen.

In any other circumstance, he'd have more reasons to worry. The notion of a pair of teenagers cohabiting wasn't one that appealed to his fatherly instincts, but Kryptonians were so touch-phobic that he didn't need to concern himself with Lois' warden pressing his advantage. Besides, Sam knew if anyone tried that with _his_ daughter, they'd find themselves very sore and probably short a few teeth once she was done with them.

As for any other untoward familiarity, he'd taken the precaution of giving Lois a four-hour class on Stockholm syndrome before sending her off to New Krypton, so she'd be prepared. Sam was confident that if Lois started feeling any tender emotion toward her captor, she'd remember that he was the enemy, and that her salvation rested in her hands, not his. Toughness, tenacity, stubbornness, those were all traits that would help her keep her identity and mission clear even on a new planet, and they were characteristics that Sam had cultivated in his daughter from her earliest days. He'd never allowed her to take failure gracefully, never accepted anything less than her best, and half the time never accepted her best, either. What would be the point in continuing to strive, if she'd already met her goals?

He and Ella had fought over his treatment of Lois. She wanted him to be softer on her, treat her the way a father should treat his daughter. The way he treated Lucy, the un-looked-for jewel of his life. But if he'd given in over the years, Lois would have been completely unprepared for this. To his mind, it was justified. Lois might not be the son he'd wished for, but she was able to do a son's work, and serve her country in this most treacherous battle.

There was a price, as for everything. It had been months, and Ella's hazel eyes were still hard and sharp as diamonds when she looked on her husband. He was still sleeping on the couch, and he knew better than to try making an appeal. The day Ella failed to make up the guest room was the day he'd be allowed back into his own bed, and no sooner. Sam Lane was a hard man, and many thought that Ella, being a Tremaine, was as soft as any socialite, but he had no illusions as to whose will was stronger.

It grieved him to feel her anger, grieved him worse to hear Lucy sniffling at night, missing her sister. That changed nothing. Some things a man couldn't do for his family, especially a man who wore a uniform and swore to defend his nation. He had needed a son to follow in his footsteps, and since fate hadn't sent him one, he'd made his daughter worth any two men in a fight.

If they won through this, he would welcome her home with all the approval and affection Ella had wanted him to lavish on him over the years. But then, if they won through this, she wouldn't need it. She'd be proud enough and certain enough of herself not to need his approval anymore. Sam could think of no greater gift to bestow on a girl her age.

He was thinking too far ahead, however. The problem of the moment was what to do on their end about the attack on the Kryptonian mining facility. No overt action on the part of the United Nations, of course, though certain covert measures were being applied against the presumed aggressors. This was no time for any country to play the maverick; only by cooperation could they all survive. And Sam's superiors, at least, were willing to ensure that cooperation by any means necessary.

This was war, even the Kryptonians thought the soldiers stationed nearby were quite friendly, and open hostility was absolutely forbidden. It was war, even if they dared not make any threatening move until the hostages were secure. Not the kind of war many soldiers were used to; this was more like the Cold War of Sam's own youth. Spy and counterspy, strategy and counter-strategy and counter-counter-strategy, nerve and wit and determination, an endless game of heavily-armed chess with the fate of millions in the balance.

This was what Sam lived for, the battle he thrived on. He coordinated the flow of information into and out of New Krypton, he oversaw all of the encoded reports, and at the center of it all was his own daughter. He knew some of his counterparts in Europe had sneered at the thought of a teenage girl taking on so crucial a role, but they'd been shamed into silence. Lois was the best-positioned of any of the hostages; she had unparalleled freedoms and access to all kinds of information. And she was influencing her captor to keep expanding those freedoms for the rest of the hostages.

Yes, Lois was pivotal to the whole enterprise. Fortunately for them all, Sam had controlled for every conceivable variable, and he was certain that nothing could derail their plans. Soon enough Lois and the rest of the resistance would make the breakthrough that would turn the entire situation around.


	18. The Most Delicate of Machinations

**It's almost 1 AM, but we only just got the chance to sit down and finish. It's been quite the exhausting weekend over here [the FIL _just_came home a few days ago and we're still readjusting our routine so that everything works out and can be done, including the both of us working, writing, and being nurses to him. So please forgive us the tardiness and we'll be starting back to work on the opening chapter to _LaOH_ tomorrow so that it can be out as planned next weekend. :D**

**Enjoy!**

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When Lois had been about four or five, she'd seen a sidewalk entertainer spinning plates on the ends of dowels. It had seemed like magic to her then, as the man somehow balanced a plate and dowel in each hand, then two in each hand, then one gripped between his teeth. Finally he'd slipped one foot out of his shoe and, with an assistant's help, clutched a sixth dowel between his toes. Six fragile plates, all spinning at once, and the man balancing on one foot besides!

She'd wondered what it was like, staring at the man in amazement until her father tugged her away. And now, Lois began to feel like she knew, just a little bit, how it had felt to split her concentration so many different ways, how it felt to be responsible for so many fragile things spinning so swiftly toward disaster.

The co-conspirators kept in touch on a near-daily basis, passing information back and forth during their casual strolls—the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion held the opinion that two or three short walks per day were ideal for maintaining the humans' physical and mental health, which played neatly into the resistance's plans.

All the various bits and pieces of information they collected sometimes added up to nothing more than confusion, but there were some huge leads. And just recently, they'd been able to deliver some crucial intel to the resistance on Earth. The message had been carried by three different letters from three different members of the resistance, in three completely different codes, and General Lane's reply to Lois was the first to confirm receipt of it.

Lois' heart had soared when she read that letter from him. Now Earth's military knew what the spies on New Krypton knew: that the Kryptonian military fleet was limited only to those ships they'd already seen. There were no more waiting to be deployed, and no more _could_ be deployed in the near future.

It had started innocuously, as many game-changing events did. Strolling through a garden, Henri had overheard a conversation between two Kryptonians, who either hadn't realized he was human or hadn't realized how well he understood them. They had been debating a proposal by the Supreme Chancellor to build more warships. Henri had listened intently while appearing to be absorbed in the color-changing flowers he'd been looking at, and learned that the motion was being stalled.

Geoffrey had followed up the thread, asking Nira Kor-En about the crystal building process. She had enlightened him considerably; the crystals not only required salt water to grow quickly, they also needed more time based on the complexity and intricacy of the design. A simple building—walls, roof, energy collection, climate control, and lighting systems—could be raised in a week or so with pure water. The randomized crystal growth that had shut down Earth's aircraft took mere hours, as its structure was extremely simple. But a complex building, with multiple interior spaces and viewing panels and other amenities, presently took three weeks or more to build. And a ship, will all of its controls and processes, took months. The ships sent to collect the human hostages turned out to be among the same ones that had transported the Kryptonians from their lost planet to this new one.

Huang had asked Jhan-Or about the importance of salt. It turned out that the Kryptonians _had_ a limited supply of salt, but it went first to dietary needs, as they required it just as much as humans did. Huang had smiled when he told Lois of the conversation; he'd learned more about the terrible side effects of dehydration and the potential dangers of salt-potassium imbalance than he ever wanted to know. The pertinent part was that the Kryptonians' current supply of salt was barely sufficient to their biological requirements, and it was too scarce on this planet to be useful. They _had_ to mine it on Earth and import it.

Lois was left to ask the dangerous questions, as she had the best rapport with her warden. She managed to get Kal-El on the topic of the Council, and asked him in all innocence how things were decided. Of course the current bone of contention had been his example of choice—if it hadn't been, she would've figured out a way to lead him onto it.

"The Supreme Chancellor has veto power over the entire Council," Kal-El had told her. "But they have wills of their own. Once, when the fate of our entire race was at stake, he did make demands of them, and forced them to obey him. Since then he has ruled with consent, as final arbiter of their decisions."

Lois had nodded; she knew perfectly well that Zod was the absolute ruler of the planet, and that the Council did not defy him if they could help it. But like any dictator, his grip on power was difficult to maintain. If he continuously thwarted the Council, his people would agitate against him. So he played a delicate game, trying to ensure the Council voted the way _he_ wanted it to, without ever showing his hand blatantly in the machinations.

Kal-El had continued, "This particular issue is hotly contested. It concerns a valuable mineral resource which is scarce upon this planet, and which is vital to several different aspects of our lives. It so happens that your planet has this mineral in abundance, which is what our scientists are attempting to extract from certain locales on Earth where it is particularly abundant."

Lois had already known they were talking about salt, but she'd let him think he was being cagey—and she'd filed away the plural 'locales' for further exploration. So far as she knew, thanks to her father's letters, the Kryptonians were only mining salt at the Dead Sea. If there was more than one location, then she _really_ needed to find out about it. Fast.

"Mother says that my children's children will study this debate as a classic example of multiple interests competing for limited critical-use resources. The mineral in question is crucial to our health, so no one disputes that our supply of it must first go to dietary supplementation. What _is_ being debated is how much should we reserve for that usage. Some say just enough to last until the next shipment from Earth; some say twice that; some say that our supply from Earth is tenuous given the political situation there, and that our best interests lie in stockpiling at least a year's worth."

"You said multiple uses," Lois prompted.

He nodded. "Indeed. This same mineral is vital to crystal growth, which creates a demand for it in every area of construction. Homes, public buildings, transportation, data storage: nearly everything in our culture is made of crystal. One of the things I suspect we could learn from your people is how to exploit a wider variety of technologies so that a shortage like this doesn't cripple progress."

"So people want this stuff for construction, too, right?" Lois said, seeing how the debate was shaping up and wanting to nudge him back on topic.

"Indeed. And the Council is deadlocked. Some prefer that the shipments from Earth go directly to domestic construction. Our family is fortunate to be both affluent and represented on the Council, so we have our own homes as has been Kryptonian tradition for millennia. Others are still residing in group homes, several families sharing one building, and this arrangement is forced and unnatural to us. The homes of even the highest-ranked Councilors lack the amenities to which we were accustomed. And all of those want the mineral devoted to building. Father tells me that it has been said in Council that a single shipment from Earth could, if devoted entirely to construction, reduce our housing shortage by a third in the space of a week. Without the mineral, our construction progresses slowly, and it will take months to alleviate the shortfall."

He didn't mention defense, and Lois didn't ask. Based on Henri's report, it was reasonable to infer that the military wanted salt too, to build its ships. But the competing interests had locked the supply up for now, and no one could use it. Which meant that there would be no new fleet. Cripple the existing warships, and the war was effectively over. Of course, there were still the hostages to consider, but Lois figured she and her fellow conspirators could work out a way to keep their captors at bay. As Kal-El often said, the humans were far more creative than his own people.

While Lois was proud to have delivered the information and glad that they were making progress, it still left her with uncomfortable questions. What would she do when the time came? How could she betray Kal-El, this earnest and rather sweet young man who'd tried so hard to win her friendship and now strove to maintain it?

Keeping her distance had failed utterly. Ever since the kiss—which they never discussed—she'd been unable to think of him as her alien jailer. They were too close, too much in each other's confidence, for that.

Sometime in the last few weeks, the enormous personal space bubble that all Kryptonians maintained had somehow shrunk. Lois hadn't noticed it until she was studying a holographic display of Old Krypton, and suddenly became aware of a presence hovering right behind her. She whirled around to see Kal-El looking abashed; he had been peering over her shoulder. Before he could properly make his apology, she laughed at the silliness of it, and after a moment he laughed too.

After that, Lois paid attention. She realized right away that Kal-El stood closer to her when they spoke, that he gestured more, that they walked closer. And it wasn't just him; when she walked up to him, she automatically closed to ordinary human conversational distance, rather than the extra space Kryptonian etiquette required.

At first she thought that spending so much time with her had simply reset Kal-El's subconscious definition of normal, but he didn't do it with Kryptonians, or with other humans. Then again, he also didn't give humans the extra few inches beyond normal Kryptonian distance that most Kryptonians added to their personal space in the presence of an alien.

It was only with her, and Lois could guess why: the same reason she tended to smile at the sight—or even just the thought—of him. He was comfortable with her, he genuinely _liked_ her, and God help her, Lois felt the same about him. If only he'd been human, he would've been the perfect ally and friend!

Lois chuckled under her breath; she was lying to herself. The warmth that suffused her when he smiled at her had nothing to do with friendship. Like it or not, she was attracted to Kal-El. She enjoyed being around him, and the feeling was clearly mutual. When he left, she missed him; there was no denying that.

Lately he'd been out of the house more and more often. The weekly family dinner at his parents' place was now two or three times a week. That had started right after Kal-El brought his mother over for dinner at his place. He'd obviously been showing Lois off; she could read the message in his bright smile even without words. _Look how much happier she is, look how comfortable she is—sending Lois to me was the best choice._ And Lara, for her part, had been glad to see Lois behaving less like a surly alien and more like a young lady.

Jor-El had been at some important Council function, and Lara had enjoyed the meal and conversation. For Lois it had been a nostalgic echo of home. The more time she spent around Lara, the more the poised and gracious Kryptonian reminded her of her own mother. Lois appreciated Lara's fondness for her as well as that extra touch of comfort, but she was beginning to suspect that their dinner had had more repercussions than even Kal-El guessed.

For one thing, there were his more frequent family dinners, which even Kal-El had remarked on. He seemed to take it as a source of pride, that his father was paying more attention to his daily endeavors instead of dismissing his fascination with humanity as childish. Lois had other ideas. Maybe they were keeping him away from her for a reason. Did they fear her influence? She couldn't blame them. In just this brief time, she'd corrupted his Kryptonian sensibilities enough so that he could kiss her and not be utterly traumatized by it.

So Jor-El was trying to mitigate her insidious influence by getting his son home for more exposure to polite Kryptonian society. Lois resented that, since it left her alone—she didn't want to leave the house when he wasn't there, just in case she was stopped. Lois used the time for doing schoolwork and studying Kryptonian culture. Kal-El had left her with free access to all of the teaching holograms he had, plus the ones he could access from the New-Krypton-wide online library. She was still bored and lonely, though. The resistance members were her co-conspirators, but she didn't think of any of them as friends. Kal-El was the closest thing she had to a friend here, and she missed him when he was gone.

On an otherwise ordinary day, Lois was muttering curses at her math homework when Kal-El arrived home. Schoolwork was another great way to sneak messages to and from home, but the codes had to be buried between legitimate questions, and the extra work was annoying. Luckily, his arrival spared her the tedium of another thirty algebra questions. Lois replied to his greeting with, "So how was dinner with the family?"

"Quite well," he replied. "Please pardon my tardiness. I became involved in a discussion with Lyla Ler-Ol, and lost track of the time."

"It's all right. I was just beating my head against these math problems," Lois told him.

"Then take a break from it, and let us go for a walk," Kal-El suggested. "It will refresh your mind."

Lois leapt at the idea. A few minutes later they were outside. The sunsets on this planet were incredible, the sky turning shades of orange and pink that wouldn't be believed on a Florida postcard. New Krypton had two moons, one much smaller that orbited more than once per day, and a larger one with an immense crater on its face. Both were visible at the moment, silvery ghosts against the brilliant sunset.

For a while they walked in silence, but something kept nagging Lois. She'd been hearing that name, Lyla Ler-Ol, quite a lot lately. Most of Kal-El's associates were involved with the B.S.K.C.E., but this Lyla wasn't.

No spy liked an unknown entity wandering about, so Lois decided to open with a fairly innocuous question, and see where it led. "You seem to see the Ler-Ols quite frequently. Are they relatives of some sort?"

"Perhaps distantly. Like my father, Ler-Ol is a member of the Science Council. The two have long been associates, and Ler-Ol has lent his expertise in chemistry to some of my father's experiments. His daughter Lyla is an actress."

"An actress?" Lois said, surprised. "I had no idea you had such a thing."

Kal-El smiled. "Our entertainment industry is nowhere near as extensive as yours, but it exists. I must remember to acquaint you with her work. Lyla is quite accomplished and will go far in her field, if I am any judge."

That was the second time he'd omitted the woman's surname, which was a sign of intimacy among Kryptonians. "So you and Lyla are friends, too?" Lois asked casually.

He gave a low, ironic chuckle. "You could say that." His tone made it clear that he was laughing at some in-joke Lois just didn't get, and that sparked her temper.

Her keen curiosity was piqued, too, and she stopped, causing him to turn and face her. "Kal-El, what is she to you?" The question was blunt, rude by Kryptonian standards, but he was accustomed to Lois' directness by now.

Kal-El tilted his head and looked at her seriously, all traces of mirth gone. "Lyla Ler-Ol is the woman whom my parents wish me to marry," Kal-El said.

_Oh, shit._ Lois' stomach felt like it had sunk down to her toes, and she tried to keep her eyes from widening in shock. Meanwhile her mind raced. _This could be bad. This could be so bad. If he gets married, that's another person in the house, someone else I have to win over or work around. A wife might change his views on humanity—or just distract him enough to neglect me—and I could lose all the little perks that mean so much to the resistance. Or worse, if he decides as a newlywed that he doesn't have time to take care of me, he might send me back to Jor-El._

Those thoughts flickered through her mind in a split second, reacting to the news and rationalizing away that first, instinctive burst of dismay. However, all she said was, "So, how does the future wife feel about humans?" Lois strove to maintain a casual tone, aware that she sounded like a jealous girlfriend. Which she wasn't. At all.

Kal-El didn't laugh, though there was a hint of humor in his eyes. Instead he took Lois' hand—in public, where anyone might see, he folded her fingers into his and squeezed them reassuringly. "Lyla has no interest in humans; the main focus of her life is her career, even as mine is my studies, and for that reason it is premature to refer to her as my future wife. Our parents hope we will marry, the match is advantageous to both families, but our lives are our own and no one may be compelled into marriage."

That was a relief, and Lois smiled with a touch of chagrin, returning the squeeze. It was so natural a gesture that it would take her hours to realize that she and Kal-El had been behaving with a level of intimacy that would suggest a married couple to any Kryptonian—and an indiscreet couple, at that, one given to unseemly public displays of affection.

At the moment, all she saw was the warmth in Kal-El's eyes as he continued, "While I do plan to marry someday, and Lyla would be a delightful companion, I am in no hurry to wed. You need not fear dealing with disinterest or disdain while you live in my house, Lois. I promise you that."


	19. Vanishing Pages in the Book of Days

**Just wanted to take a moment to add before the chapter that I would LOVE to be able to post both this and Love and Other Headaches every week, but there's just no time, since both Anissa and I work full-time jobs and are both caregivers to her father. I WISH we had that kind of time. But you know what? I love you guys for loving this and the other stories so much! And there's also a side project being worked on for another 'verse. Never say that we're not busy with SOMETHING at all times these days.**

**Why?**

**Because our fans are worth it, that's why! **

**Thanks to all of you for sticking with us! I would have added this early Satu**r**day when I posted, but I was falling asleep at the keyboard and just wanted to get it in as early as possible!**

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Jhan-Or lingered after a meeting of the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion, and Kal-El hung back as well. The elder Kryptonian had given no sign that he particularly wanted to speak to him, but then Kal-El knew that so experienced a politician would not show his hand readily.

His suspicions were confirmed when Jhan-Or turned to him with the faintest suggestion of a smile. "So, I presume you are interested in furthering our discussion?"

"Of course," Kal-El replied.

"Very well. To summarize: all but four humans are currently under the guardianship of members of the Society. We are in touch with the hosts of the remaining four, and their situations are at least comfortable, if not ideal. All of our humans now have Earth-style beds and clothing for their comfort, though they understand the necessity of conforming to Kryptonian customs in public. Most importantly, all of our humans have freedom of movement, and there have been no incidents that would give the Council probable cause to revoke the privilege. We have accomplished much in a short time."

"As you said during the meeting," Kal-El said. "What of the ultimate goal?"

Jhan-Or raised a skeptical brow. "Of what ultimate goal do you speak?"

"The one which we discussed without discussing," Kal-El said. He hated the way suspicion forced him to talk in circles; it was his nature to be honest and forthright. But even he knew that to speak openly of freeing the humans was unwise beyond all measure.

Sighing, Jhan-Or looked at him for a long moment before answering. "I did remark that patience was necessary to this venture. Kal-El, the progress made in that direction will by necessity be glacial. To act too late is to lose a little time; to act too soon is to lose all."

"You are correct, of course." Crestfallen, Kal-El could not help feeling a tiny flare of resentment. What was being done to Lois and her people was an injustice, and the knowledge of it—the complicity in it—chafed at him daily. Much as he enjoyed her company, he was never unaware that Lois was here under duress, and if he was not resolute the knowledge would cast a pall of his every interaction with her.

Chastened, he and Jhan-Or spoke of less volatile things for a short time to explain their tardiness if questioned. Specifically they discussed the issues regarding a few of the humans who were proving quite timid. Exposure to their bolder brethren did not seem to lessen their fears, only making them more wary. Kal-El resolved to discuss the matter with Lois. Surely her insight would be of assistance.

He arrived home with that thought in mind, and immediately sought out Lois. She didn't come to greet him as she usually did, and he found her in the solarium, with a worried—and worrying—lost expression on her face. Kal-El had to call her name to get her attention.

Lois sat up straighter, startled and wide-eyed for a moment, and then stood up to come to him with a tense smile. "Hello, Kal-El. Sorry, I was lost in thought for a minute there."

"It did not seem a pleasant thought in which to be lost," Kal-El remarked, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. He had noticed the humans always hugged one another on meeting, assumed it was a greeting between friends, and promptly adopted it. After the first few times, it felt completely natural to embrace her, and in fact Kal-El had grown to enjoy it.

A part of him knew it was intolerable intimacy. He could not imagine behaving so familiarly with anyone else—the idea of hugging his mother, or Lyla Ler-Ol, was ludicrous. This was only for Lois, and only because she was human, because the closeness was normal for her species. Never mind that it was decidedly abnormal for his, or that he would miss the contact if she chose to stop. Some deeply-buried instinct in Kal-El had recognized the protective, affectionate nature of the gesture, and had adopted it as shorthand for everything he felt toward Lois.

Lois pressed her cheek against his shoulder, still tense and unhappy. "What is wrong?" Kal-El asked gently, pulling back just enough to make her look up at him.

"Do you know what day it is?" she whispered, her brow furrowed. Such clear turmoil in her hazel eyes, for once not trying to hide her distress.

He knew the date by Kryptonian reckoning, of course, but he paid little attention to the Earth date. "No, I am afraid I do not. Is this day of some significance?"

Lois laughed, a short , choppy sound as she began to fidget with a strand of her black hair. His heart went out to her, though he still didn't understand. "No. No significance at all. It's two weeks ago that was important." With that she broke away from him, pacing.

Kal-El knew her well enough now to know that the pacing was a sign of stress and turmoil. Lois could not contain tension or frustration; she had to express those feelings with physical movement. Kal-El did not try to restrain her, merely positioning himself so that he could keep watch over her. "What important event occurred two weeks ago?" he asked.

Again that ugly, pained laugh, now combined with a telling stricken expression washing over her features. "My birthday. I'm seventeen now. And I didn't even _know_ until my father wished me a belated birthday over the videoconference. I didn't even know it was October! I had no idea I'd been here _that_ long."

Birthdays among humans were quite different from the solemn days of reflection celebrated on New Krypton, and Kal-El was chagrined that he had neglected to learn Lois' birth date and prepare something for her. Gifts were traditional, he seemed to remember, along with the consumption of sweet confections called 'cake'. Perhaps, if he were quick, he could mitigate her dismay. "Forgive me, Lois, I was unaware."

"It's not _your_ fault," she said, with a slashing gesture of one hand meant to cut off further apologies and attempts at mollification. It had been some time since he'd seen that look of frustrated helplessness, a sight he had hoped to never seen again. "I just … God. I've…Dammit, it's starting to happen. I'm losing track of time. It's been months since I hugged my sister, or sat down in a classroom, or broke curfew, or ate a pizza…. And my Mom… Dammit." Lois was biting her lower lip then, her struggle to keep her emotions in check impossible to hide.

Her train of thought was heading in a morose direction, and Kal-El loathed seeing her miserable. He approached her as she paced ceaselessly, and placed himself so that she would have to stop to keep from running into him. "Lois. It saddens you to dwell on such things. We have no control of time, you and I, and your sorrow is poignant." He did _not_ say, _Your loneliness drives me mad with frustrated compassion, and your grief causes me to make foolish plans, the sort of plans that would have me swiftly imprisoned by the Supreme Chancellor._

Lois looked up at him, blinking in surprise, and he wondered if perhaps she saw some of what he did not say. "You're right. It just … it hurts. But you're right."

_It hurts._ Such simple words, but they summed up her situation and his perfectly. She was wounded in a way he could not heal, and the knowledge of it wounded him in turn. All Kal-El could do was ask, "Would it alleviate your dismay by some tiny fraction if we celebrated your birthday this evening?"

Again, that startled blinking. He had obviously surprised her. The corners of Lois' mouth turned up ever so slightly. "What did you have in mind?"

"I might, given a little time, be able to procure ingredients for a cake," he told her. "And I believe gifts are given as well. I _do_ have something for you; I had only been waiting for an appropriate time to bestow it."

Finally, Lois smiled at him. Truly smiled. He was even bestowed a laugh as she shook her head at him in what must be disbelief. "Kal-El. You…you really don't have to. But, really? Yes, I think that would help some. You're sweet for even considering it."

Relieved, he hugged her again, and Lois squeezed him extra tight. "I do so hate to see you saddened," he murmured.

She pulled back then, and looked up at him with a very serious expression. "Kal-El … you're good to me. Incredibly good to me and I thank you so much for it. I don't know what I'd do here without you. Whatever else happens, please remember that I appreciate that."

"As you are good to me, Lois. You have been patient and understanding with my insatiable thirst for knowledge, and you have been far kinder than the situation warrants." Her eyes widened a little at that, but she smiled at him, and the moment passed.

…

The cake—which proved to be somewhat of a daunting construction, especially when made from basic ingredients—was baking, and Kal-El and Lois were laughing over his mistake regarding the 'flour', which even now his robots were cleaning from every surface in the meal preparation area. Lois was telling him a story of her childhood, and her mood was much improved. "Once when Lucy was about three, she dropped a whole bag in the living room, and then played with it. I bet there's _still_ flour down in the pockets of that sofa."

Kal-El chuckled, and was about to reply, when the communicator chimed, indicating an incoming call. He went to the main room to answer it, and saw his mother's image there. "Hello, my son," she said. "I trust I find you well."

"You do indeed, Mother, and I hope I find you the same," Kal-El said.

Lara smiled, and they passed a little time in small talk, catching up on the events of the past few days. Lara asked after Lois as well, and Kal-El responded only in general terms, not wishing to discuss Lois' recent dismay while she was still in earshot.

Then Lara came to the purpose of her call. "Kal-El, I wished to inform you that your father is delayed in Council proceedings this evening, and to invite you to dinner in his absence."

That presented a conundrum. Kal-El had never refused an invitation to his parent's abode, but he had already made plans with Lois, and he did not want to risk her disappointment by altering them now. "Ah, there may be some difficulty. We are celebrating the anniversary of Lois' birth according to human customs."

Lois had peeked around the corner of the room, watching the call, and she whispered, "Invite her."

He turned around, surprised. "Lois?"

She just shrugged, her expression unreadable. "It's traditional to invite friends and family. And your mom has always been nice to me."

Nonplussed, Kal-El turned back to his mother's image. "Lois has graciously invited you to join us. We are already preparing the traditional dessert, but I had not yet finalized my plans for dinner."

"Then I shall accept, with pleasure, and you may leave dinner to me," Lara replied with a bright smile. Kal-El knew she had tried very hard to lift Lois' spirits when the human first arrived, to little avail. Being able to see her now that she was more settled in would be a delight. "Is there anything else of which I should be aware?"

"Only one—it is traditional to bring a gift for the honoree," Kal-El replied.

"I believe I can manage that," Lara said.

Once they signed off, Kal-El turned to Lois again. "That was most kind of you, to invite my mother."

Lois shrugged one shoulder, her body language still guarded. "My pleasure. Really. Your mom really is cool. I think we both known that it's your dad who doesn't like me. Like, at all."

"Father does not dislike you," Kal-El protested immediately.

At that, Lois laughed. "_Right_. Kal-El, he and I were driving each other nuts. And I know he only sent me to you because he couldn't keep me out of his lab any other way. Besides, I can hear the disapproval in his voice whenever you talk to him."

Kal-El couldn't quite deny that. It wasn't that Jor-El disliked _Lois_; he disapproved of Kal-El's interest in and advocacy of humans in general. However, he couldn't explain that to Lois without the risk of accidentally revealing his larger plans, and Kal-El did not yet trust Lois to keep silent with such momentous news.

For the moment he was spared from further discussion by the door chime. "Your gift has arrived," he informed Lois. "I understand it is to be kept secret?"

She smirked at him. "I'll go in my room and not peek."

The items he had requested were delivered by robot courier, and Kal-El promptly sent a message to the seller thanking him for his assistance. He'd had little time to prepare for the occasion, but he had been fortunate in knowing what sorts of goods were frequently carried on the black market, and who was stockpiling them. Such small items, to be so costly, but he hoped he had chosen well.

Kal-El knew that birthday gifts were customarily wrapped in paper, but he had not been able to procure any of this specialized wrapping paper in time. He did make note of it for the future; there was a major human holiday coming up in a few months, as they reckoned time. Instead of wrapping his gift, he enclosed it in a container of opaque crystal. It would have to suffice.

Within the hour, Lara arrived, her robots bringing a sumptuous feast of Kryptonian and human dishes that harmonized well together. She also brought a gift, which was encased in opaque crystal just as Kal-El's was. Lois appeared much uplifted by the festive air, and Kal-El hoped he had diverted her, at least for a little while, from the depressed mood she'd been in when he arrived home.

At first, things were quite convivial. Not even the most suspicious mind could misconstrue Lara's obvious happiness at seeing Lois adapting well, and Kal-El had some difficulty in hiding his pride. His father's wisdom had only made Lois sullen, but his own compassion and kindness allowed her to finally blossom. And if Jor-El would not permit him to bring Lois to their home to show off her progress, then Lara would tell him of it after this visit.

By the time the robots served the cake, Kal-El had noticed a slightly distracted air about his mother. She waved off his indirect queries, instead remarking on the uniqueness of the cake. "It seems as though this confection is as much constructed as baked," Lara mused, noting the multiple layers.

"If you decide to replicate it, Mother, I strongly suggest taking care in the handling of one ingredient," Kal-El hastened to add, and that won a chuckle from Lois. "It is an extremely fine powder, and prone to aerosolizing at the least provocation."

"By Lois' laughter, I take it you learned this from experience, my son," Lara chided lightly. Kal-El laughed as well, only a little embarrassed. He turned to catch Lois' gaze, and shared a grin with her.

Because he had looked away, Kal-El missed his mother's speculative expression. He could not have known that throughout their dinner she had taken note of the camaraderie between himself and Lois. Nor did he realize that his English had all but entirely lost the tell-tale traces of his Kryptonian accent. Except for the formality of his phrasing, he sounded like a human when he spoke to Lois.

He looked to her often, smiled at her frequently, and they laughed easily at each other's jests. Kal-El could not have guessed that Lara was cataloguing all of those things, and drawing a conclusion that deeply worried her. Perhaps, if Lois had explained the concept of 'mother's intuition' to him, he would have been less light-hearted about this visit, but for the moment he only knew that he and two of the people he cared most for were having a lovely evening.


	20. Minute Stutters Along an Iridescent Wire

**This one didn't want to come until Zero Hour [read: we started it two days ago!]. I don't know why it is, but _Across the Universe_, for all it's smallness, is the hardest of our 'verses to write ever. Truly. And not because we don't love it. It's just that it's the most contrary. :D**

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Lois was actually having fun at her belated birthday party. She'd learned the same trick as thousands of other captives before her in the history of human warfare. Focusing selectively on the day to day instead of the big picture, she was able to live almost normally, without letting the cold fact of her circumstances crush her. True, the unexpected news that she'd missed her own birthday had momentarily rocked her equilibrium, but Lois was a survivor. She had the mental resilience to pick herself up and go on.

And besides, this _was_ fun. Kal-El had delighted in every step of the process, even the part where he got coated in flour. Now that his mother was here and getting into the spirit of the celebration, he was practically vibrating with joy. Lois knew that no matter what it was, she would love it. The mere fact that he thought so much of her….

A prickle of warning swept up her spine, and Lois turned to catch Lara looking at them both with a very thoughtful expression. _He cares __**too**__ much about me, and it's obvious to her,_ she thought. _Holy shit, if she starts asking him questions, how long before she finds out we kissed? And then we'll both wind up in quarantine somewhere, and the whole plan goes to hell._ She had to straighten up her act, and fast.

The next time Kal-El beamed at her, she returned it only with a demure smile. The perplexed look in his eyes hurt to see, but Lois smothered that. She'd explain later, if she had to. Luckily after a few minutes Kal-El seemed to catch on, and both of them behaved with more Kryptonian restraint.

"I believe it is time for gifts. Am I correct, Lois?" Kal-El asked.

She couldn't help smiling at him then. "You're just like my little sister, always wanting to get to the presents even when it isn't your birthday. All right, let's have the gifts. I'm sure they'll be wonderful."

"I do hope you will enjoy my gift," Lara said, with an encouraging smile.

"I'm certain I will," Lois told her. "You've always been very kind, even when I wasn't. I am sorry for the way I behaved when I was in your home."

To her surprise, the Kryptonian woman waved her off. "Lois, you have nothing for which to apologize. You merely behaved as any high-spirited young person would in such circumstances. I am more than pleased to see you happy, now."

That was completely sincere, but Lois knew she'd have to continue to be careful. Lara was no fool, no matter what she'd thought of her when she'd been living in their house, and Lois couldn't afford to make her suspicious.

Kal-El's robots returned with the gifts and set them on the table in front of her. Wrapping paper wasn't a commodity on New Krypton, so both gifts were encased in opaque crystal. Lois eyed them both, but the faceted ovals gave no hint of the contents. The ruby-red one was fairly small, about the size of a clenched fist, and the pale blue was big enough to theoretically hold a basketball. "How do I open them?" she asked.

Lara seemed about to answer, but Kal-El spoke first. "Part of the challenge is figuring that out." Lois narrowed her eyes at him for a second, but he was too proud of his ingenuity to be chastened. Sighing, Lois returned her attention to her presents.

Deciding to start with the bigger gift, Lois picked it up hesitantly. It was moderately heavy, and Lara quickly said, "Do not turn it over. The contents need to remain upright." Right then, Lois knew it was some kind of plant. Lara's greenhouse was a source of both pride and comfort to her, and her parting gifts to Lois when she moved in with Kal-El had been tomato plants imported from Earth. Funny how Lois didn't even like tomatoes much before all this happened, but she relished them now as a taste of home.

None of the facets moved or slid or pressed down. The structure seemed perfectly impenetrable. Lois glared at it, thinking hard, knowing Kal-El was watching her with gleeful interest. Once in a while, a very great while, he could make her feel like a lab rat doing a great trick, but this wasn't one of those times.

That was when Lois noticed Lara tapping her fingers lightly against the table, as if in impatience. But Lara would never be so rude, not when she was at such pains to make Lois feel welcome. So it had to be a hint. Taking another look at both containers, Lois noticed they came almost to a point at the top, capped with a single flat facet of crystal. Smirking triumphantly, Lois reached up and tapped that spot with one finger. One tap didn't do it, but two in quick succession caused the entire crystal structure to shift and move, facets sliding against one another.

The pale blue crystals retracted, revealing a beautiful plant with three large blooms, much like a lily. Its petals were deep blue lightening at the tips, with a thin streak of white down the center and dots along the edge. The leaves were narrow and rust red. "Wow," Lois whispered. She was no botanist, but it _was_ stunning plant.

"Is that…?" Kal-El said, and Lara nodded. "Amazing. I had no idea they were even cultivated."

"Your aunt Allura discovered the secret. They require a very specific additive to the hydroponic growth medium." Lara looked hopefully at Lois, and asked, "Do you like it?"

"Of course!" she replied truthfully. "It's gorgeous."

Lara smiled broadly. "It has one other interesting property. Kal-El, dim the lights?" Once he did so, Lara told her, "Bring your hand near the flowers."

Lois did so, gingerly, and gasped when the white streaks lit up with a faint glow. Kal-El gasped too. "They are bioluminescent?"

"The reaction is triggered by the movement of air currents," Lara said. "Apparently they are pollinated by large moths, and the bioluminescence serves to guide the insects to the nectar."

All of the science aside, she truly was blown away. Just from Kal-El's reaction, this was something uncommon for one to own even for a Kryptonian and it was hers. "That really is the coolest thing I've ever seen," Lois told her as Kal-El brought the lights back up.

"I am most glad that it pleases you," Lara replied.

If Kal-El had been younger and less Kryptonian, he would've been bouncing in his seat with eagerness. In spite of herself, she couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head. He really was very charming, without even trying to be. Lois could read the anticipation in his bright blue eyes, and reached for the smaller gift. "I hope you like it," he said nervously.

"I'm sure I will," she soothed, and tapped the spot on the crystal surface that made it open. The dark red crystal blossomed to reveal a small box, which Lois opened. Inside, nestled in fabric, was a pair of silver drop earrings set with pale stones. As soon as she picked them up, the light played across the smooth surface of the stone with every hue imaginable. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, only look at him in wide-eyed shock. "Oh my God, are these opal?"

"Yes, they are, imported from Earth," Kal-El replied. "My research indicates this stone is believed to bring good fortune and luck. Are they pleasing to you?"

"They're … wow. Kal-El, they're beautiful." She wasn't going to cry, she _wasn't_. Kal-El didn't know her mother had a lovely opal necklace that had been in the family for years, which Lois would have been allowed to wear this year if she hadn't been too busy being a hostage of fortune.

She hadn't brought any jewelry on this trip, and the necklace around her throat could hardly be considered such. But that bitter thought had no place at this table, and Lois shoved it aside. She put the earrings on immediately, wincing at the way her pierced ears had to stretch again after so long without earrings.

Meanwhile Lara murmured to her son in discreet Kryptonese, "Kal-El, do gifts of jewelry not have … other connotations among humans? I had read it is often considered a courting gift."

He shook his head. "No, Mother. To give a ring, in certain circumstances, is to offer betrothal, but decorations for the ears seem to be an appropriate gift for women of Lois' culture regardless of who bestows them. Furthermore, because we are celebrating the anniversary of her birth, Lois is well aware of the intent of the gift, which rules out any potential miscommunication."

Lois looked up then, beaming at them. "Thank you both so, so much." It hurt, at that moment, not to be able to hug the both of them, to have to express her gratitude through words alone. "You're really … you're the best."

It wasn't really surprising that emotion overwhelmed her then; she hadn't even asked Kal-El to cheer her up, and he'd gone and thrown her a _party_, complete with a cake and a lovely gift that echoed home in the best way. And his mother hadn't needed to arrange a meal to her tastes and bring a gift of her own, something of startling beauty and rarity. Lois couldn't think of them as captors anymore. They were _people_, just like her, stuck in a bad situation and trying to make the best of it. Trying their best to make _her_ life better, too.

All of that probably explained why she choked back a sob, her eyes watering. And then, to her utter mortification, Lois Lane started crying just like the teenage girl she tried so hard not to be.

Kal-El was immediately alarmed. "Are you all right? Lois, I am sorry if I offended you…"

The protest came immediately and a part of her hated that he could even think it. "No, no, it's fine," she said, waving him off. "I just … sometimes humans cry with happiness. It's weird, I know. Just … I'm okay, really."

Lara was looking at her with some trepidation, and Lois managed to put on a brave smile. "It's nothing either of you did. At all. I promise. I … I completely missed my own birthday, and I was upset by it, and you two went and made it all okay again. I didn't expect that."

"Is that not what friends do?" Lara said gently.

Lois bit her lip. Oh God. "Yeah, it is," she said softly, nodding.

After that, the party was officially over, and Kal-El escorted Lois to her room, hovering worriedly the entire way. At her door, she dashed the tears away and looked up at him with as much of the old Lane fierceness as she could. "I'm fine, Kal-El. Now go convince your mother I'm not too much of a human influence on you."

He looked perplexed for a moment, then nodded gravely. "I had forgotten. Thank you, Lois." And then, timidly, "You do like the earrings?"

Lois smiled a broad genuine smile. "Oh, Kal-El, I _love_ them." If it had been any other situation, if his mother hadn't been in the other room, she would've kissed his cheek. But that would have to wait for another day.

…

The resistance had begun meeting in larger groups, crossing paths casually in the public gardens. Geoffrey had discovered that no one bothered to come looking for him if he wandered outside the paths; all they needed to do was wait for a moment when no one was looking, hop over one of the low walls, and keep the taller plantings between himself and any casual stroller's line of sight. Not that many Kryptonians were out and about on a daily basis.

Henri provided the next piece of the puzzle, and filled in Huang and Lois when they took their afternoon constitutional. _His_ keeper was a sentinel, a sort of domestic security personnel position, and had been drafted into the Bureau of Human Affairs. His normal job was something like a police officer, but without actual police powers, as that function was strictly controlled by Chancellor Zod's military. As Henri explained it, Tar-Kon had been a lot like a mall cop or private security guard in terms of respect and authority—in short, not much of either.

The move to the Bureau of Human Affairs was a boon to him, and to the resistance. Henri had successfully faked his comprehension of Kryptonese to the point where Tar-Kon conversed with him in pidgin English, never realizing Henri understood almost every word of his supposedly private conversations.

Worse, for the Kryptonians anyway, Henri had been an avid MacGyver fan back home and had watched reruns of the show obsessively. Not only did he remember many of the show's solutions to various situations, he had adopted his idol's creative can-do approach to any sort of puzzle. The technical details bored Lois, but she sat up in shock when Henri revealed that he was now able to hack his host's computer system. "Of course, he has no idea I can even read Kryptonese, so I keep a separate panel set to old TV shows. If he ever catches me, I'll just tell him he left it up and I found the TV station. I think he thinks I'm quite stupid, honestly."

"My God," Geoffrey whispered. "We have a direct line into their security for the Bureau of Human Affairs."

"He never deletes his messages, either," Henri gloated. "And guess what I found today? The technical specifications for these damn crystal collars."

Lois gave a low whistle. "Any idea how to get them off?"

"If they're out of contact with skin for more than thirty seconds, they automatically switch on and start beaming a tracking signal," Henri told her, shaking his head. "But the good news is, that's the _only_ time they send a signal—otherwise they're inert. Of course, they can be remotely activated and traced from the central office, but after the first week or two when they were testing the system, they've never used it. We're all too well-behaved, apparently, to bother checking up on."

"Are Zod's people aware of that?" Huang said. "I can't imagine a despot like him is comfortable with simply not knowing where the humans are all the time."

"I don't know for sure, but apparently the Bureau is satisfied with just being able to find us anytime they want. As long as none of our captors reports us missing, we're basically unmonitored."

Geoffrey mused, "And they won't report us missing, because they keep sending us out on walks for our mental health now that all of them belong to this Benevolent Society of theirs. Which I understand is basically being run by your Jhan-Or, right, Huang?"

"Precisely. Although he was not actually the founder." Huang looked at Lois then, and a shadow crossed his expression. "Lois, where did you get those earrings?"

Only then did she realize she'd worn them outside, and she touched them self-consciously. _Uh-oh._ "These? They were a gift. I just found out yesterday that I missed my own birthday. Lucky me, I turned seventeen two weeks ago."

Now Geoffrey and Henri were looking at her too. The Quebecois frowned. "A gift from who? Your father? He didn't strike me as the sort of man to smuggle jewelry. Unless there's some other purpose…."

"No, not my dad," Lois said, trying not to cringe. Maybe if she played it off casually, she could get away with it. "Kal-El gave them to me. I guess he got whatever he could on such short notice. His mom gave me a plant that glows in the dark, too."

The three men stopped dead and stared at her. Huang was only a little older than she was, Henri was somewhere in his thirties, and Geoffrey was close to fifty, but at that moment they all looked like disapproving dads. "They spoil you," Henri said flatly. "Lois, that's not a good thing to flaunt."

"No, they _pity_ me," Lois snapped. "They see me as just a kid, remember? I _am_ the youngest one here."

"And he buys you jewelry," Geoffrey speculated. "How old is he in human years again?"

"There's no perfect conversion, they age a little slower than we do, and besides a year on Old Krypton is like three years on Earth. And they still date ages in Old Krypton years instead of New Krypton years, even though there's a month's difference. More, since they're operating on a twenty-eight-hour day."

"And you're dodging the question," Huang observed.

Narrowing her eyes, Lois glared at him. "Really? Are you really trying to imply what I think you're trying to imply?"

Henri stepped in. "Come now, gentlemen. It's not as if Ms. Lane could refuse gifts on her birthday. And they don't seem to wear jewelry here. Kal-El probably has no idea it might look suspicious."

"She shouldn't wear them out," Geoffrey insisted. "The last thing we need is other Kryptonians noticing how well we're treated. Gifts from our jailers? Suppose Zod decides our hosts are too soft on us, and switches us all over to new owners? We can't afford to lose the contacts we've gained."

"Right, I get it," Lois said quickly. "I forgot I had them in, is all. It's not as if I could take them off right after he gave them to me. I don't want to insult him."

"He speaks more freely than any of the others," Huang said. "We can't afford to alienate Kal-El. But even he will have to realize he can't risk the appearance of favoritism."

Feeling like she'd just dodged a bullet, Lois agreed not to wear the earrings in public again—stupid mistake in the first place, and she knew it—and to tell Kal-El why. Her three co-conspirators were extremely anxious that she remain in his good graces. Little did they know just how good those graces were.


	21. The Darkness of Plots in Houses Divided

**Back to the adults for an interim. The better to show the world as it is, my dears.**

* * *

"I have the information you requested, General," Ursa said, nothing out of the ordinary in her tone or stance. Since he had not, in fact, requested any information from her, Dru-Zod knew it must be a matter of some importance, and not one to be discussed publicly.

"Thank you, Ursa. Allow me to finish this, and we shall discuss it in my office." Dru-Zod allowed no trace of his piqued interest to show as he finished looking over the charts his lieutenants had drawn up in preparation for the next meeting of the Council.

He proceeded leisurely to his office, where Ursa awaited him, and they both spoke of inconsequential things as a tiny robot scanned the entire room for listening devices. Only once they were certain they were unobserved did Dru-Zod speak. "And what brings you to me today, Ursa?"

"The traitor Zor-El," she said, her eyes bright with hunting fervor. "He has progressed far beyond mere rabble-rousing. He is openly defying you, General, and inciting others to do the same. I have proof—not merely witnesses, but _recordings_, of his slanderous lies. I require only your word, and I shall have him brought here in moments."

"Let him be," Dru-Zod counseled.

Ursa's shock was so total that for a moment she could only stare at him. "Let him be? While he vilifies your name and openly incites sedition? General, how can you permit this to continue?"

"I can permit it because Zor-El is harmless. He is known to be hot-tempered, which is flaw enough in his character to cause wise men to listen well to him, and to then adopt diametrically opposing views. Furthermore, he is useful to me."

"As a goad against his brother," Ursa said with a trace of sullenness in her voice.

"Indeed, and for that alone I might permit him to run amok. Yet he is useful in other ways." He had her attention, and patiently enumerated all the various reasons he allowed an unabashed traitor free rein. "First, by allowing him to continue his importuning, I show myself to be a patient and tolerant ruler, which gains me further support and continues to indicate that Zor-El is unbalanced. Second, by allowing him to speak treason, I can monitor who listens to his words and who might be swayed. It is not open dissent that concerns me, Ursa, but secret defiance. An enemy who makes himself plainly noticeable is far easier to deal with than one who remains concealed until the moment he strikes."

"Very true, and most wise." The disbelief and anger in Ursa's eyes had faded, but not vanished. Dru-Zod knew it was difficult for her to tolerate anyone who spoke against him, and if he wished to continue on this course it was best that he explain his stratagem to her fully.

"Third, it is not merely as a goad that I wield him against Jor-El. I need say nothing of him to his brother; indeed, I _have_ said nothing. It is enough that I shall allow Zor-El's name to be listed upon one of the documents that shall be on my screens when Jor-El pays a visit. He will see, and know, and fear, and I need never presume upon our friendship with anything so crude as a threat. Fourth, if Jor-El's loyalty is perhaps in doubt, by withholding punishment for all but an egregious offense, I prove myself to be his friend in truth. Far from the tyrant Zor-El claims me to be, I am perhaps too sentimental with the sadly misguided family of my close friend. And last, if Jor-El is distracted by fears for his family, he is more easily led to the conclusions I wish him to make."

"Indeed. And since you have mentioned his family, General, what of the son?"

"What of him?"

Ursa leaned forward slightly. "By all accounts Kal-El is instrumental in this ridiculous society of theirs. He is obsessed with the humans—he has published two articles on their culture in the last month alone. His household uses more internet bandwidth than any other. And he has purchased many items from the black market trade. Some were from our spies. We have enough information to prosecute him for that alone."

Dru-Zod shook his head. "He is a mere boy, Ursa."

"There are men in our ranks his age*," she pointed out.

He chuckled at that. "Ah, but they are men indeed at their young age. Kal-El is not. Military service has a way of maturing the mind. It is also true that while he is old enough for military service, he could not have attained any rank but the lowest for another year at the least."

She wasn't going to drop the point, though. "Still. You do not trust Jor-El, Zor-El is an open traitor, and Kal-El has allied himself to the human cause. Can we afford to see the entire House of El ranked against us?"

"For all his youth, Kal-El is not fool enough to oppose me. In any case he has no memory of anything except my rule. And I do recall, Ursa, instructing you not to concentrate your efforts upon him."

At that, she looked contrite. "General, I cannot help but be concerned by any potential threat to your authority."

"And I esteem your loyalty beyond any other," he replied. "But Kal-El is barely even a potential threat. His actions are those of a dreamer, his decisions are made on a whim. He has a child's fascination with these humans. Furthermore, I much prefer him occupied with studying human culture than listening to his uncle. Young idealists are too easily swept up in Zor-El's form of madness, and in numbers they can be dangerous."

"That is why I fear him. He is the scion of the House of El. That name is trusted by the people, no matter who bears it. Even a callow youth with a touch of charisma could become troublesome."

Again Dru-Zod shook his head. "Kal-El is safely obsessed with his new bauble. Let him publish his papers. Even let him arrange for custody of the humans to be transferred to his soft-hearted friends—I have not missed that ploy, it merely suited me not to obstruct it. If there is an incident as a result of their machinations, then he and that meddler Jhan-Or will be to blame, not us."

He could tell Ursa was not yet satisfied. With any other person on the entire planet, Dru-Zod would not have deigned to explain further. She had earned the privilege. "Even if he does become a threat, Kal-El would yet be more useful to me unencumbered. Jor-El is too wise to stand against me or to allow Kal-El to do so. He will remonstrate with his son, more so than with his brother, and out of fear for both of them he will become still more pliable. After all, I do not ask so much of him, and I tolerate a great deal from his wayward family. Thus distracted and overburdened with gratitude, he will not require much persuading in matters before the Council."

"You are certain, then, that Jor-El will never turn against you?" Ursa asked.

"Never," he assured her. "It was his timely warning that kept us from falling into the Council's hands when they sought to arrest us, and his support that won me the acceptance of the people. His was the crucial vote that, finally, made me Supreme Chancellor. He is too invested now to reverse his course. No, he will continue his attempts to persuade me, unaware that he is the one being manipulated."

The absolute certainty with which Dru-Zod spoke would have pained Jor-El to hear it. Zor-El would have acknowledged it as merely the truth.

"If you are certain, then, I shall put my concerns to rest," Ursa replied, inclining her head gracefully in acceptance.

Dru-Zod allowed himself to smile. He knew his second in command too well to believe she was content. She would continue to watch the House of El for any signs of treachery. Meanwhile, he could honestly claim that he had ordered no investigation into their activities.

"I appreciate your loyalty," Dru-Zod told Ursa. "However, Jor-El himself is scheduled to arrive in mere moments, and I do not wish to arouse his suspicions by requiring him to wait."

"Indeed, you always find time to see him—thus ensuring that he feels he is high in your esteem, no doubt."

"Of course. I shall call on you before the day is out about the other matter. I am certain I can convince Jor-El to support my requirement of one-third of the mineral allotment, but if not, we shall make other arrangements." With that, she took her formal leave, and Dru-Zod set about readying his office for his next appointment.

…

Jor-El was decidedly _not_ in a properly Kryptonian state of equilibrium. Already that morning he had visited Zor-El, and had an extremely unpleasant conversation with him. It should have been simple, but nothing with Zor-El ever was.

If rumors were reaching Jor-El's ears that his brother had spoken openly of removing the Supreme Chancellor from his post with a Council vote, then they could both be assured that Dru-Zod had heard those selfsame rumors. Zor-El had looked him in the eye with a peculiar glassy calm and replied, "Very well. Perhaps the tyrant will mend his ways if he realizes his subjects are considering their options."

That had stunned Jor-El. "You cannot be serious," he'd said.

"Oh, I assure you, brother, I am quite serious."

Jor-El had looked around again, carefully scanning for anyone who appeared to be listening to their conversation. They had met outdoors, walking casually through the gardens, but no one appeared interested in them. Still, it paid to be cautious. Jor-El kept his voice low when he replied, "Do you honestly believe a mere _vote_ would end his reign? If, indeed, a majority could be made to vote against him? He does have the entire military under his control."

Zor-El had laughed, low in his throat. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you gave him your support back on Krypton-that-was."

"I had no choice," Jor-El had answered, his voice grinding with the anger he dared not express. "We would have died, all of us, had the Council been permitted to continue debating. I could accept that fate for myself, if need be, but not for Lara and Kal-El. Would you have sentenced Allura to her death? Would you have ended your life and hers before Kara was even born?"

His brother's stare had been fierce. "And what have we gained, Jor-El? We live in a world where you must look around you before every sentence you speak, where we dare not converse in our own homes for fear that our words are secretly monitored. You yourself have just admitted that Dru-Zod will not step down if ordered by the Council. We have traded life in an admittedly imperfect republic for a despot's rule, and we do not have the means to remove him from office—not unless we can somehow unite the populace against him. And that, my dear brother, cannot be accomplished by cowering before him. His power lies with the fear of ordinary men, who lack the courage to stand against him."

"You are mad," Jor-El had whispered.

Zor-El had shaken his head, slowly and gravely. "No, it is you who are mad. You believe that he can be _reasoned_ with, that somehow your _friendship_ will convince him to step down."

"Dru-Zod is not insane," Jor-El had insisted. "I do not believe he willfully clings to power for its own sake. He truly believes that his rule is best for all our people—and I still believe it was best for us, when we remained, stupefied by apathy and arrogance, on a planet doomed to explode. Who else among us but Dru-Zod could have shepherded an entire nation, one that had not breached low orbit, out among the stars toward our salvation?"

At that, Zor-El had stopped abruptly, his eyes ablaze with true fury. "_We_ could have, Jor-El. If it was necessary to suspend the ordinary course of democracy, it should have been one of us who stepped forward to lead. We are the scions of the House of El! Together we had the knowledge and experience to save our people. It was _your_ technology that created the starships, not Dru-Zod's. All he accomplished was breaking the spine of the Council."

Jor-El had reeled. He'd never thought of that; the notion of taking power for himself wasn't one that had ever presented itself to him. He had gone along with the Council, respecting their authority even as they refused to listen to solid evidence, right up until the moment when his friend Dru-Zod had suggested there might be another way. And since he had conceived the idea, and had the military power to carry it through, it seemed only wisest to allow Dru-Zod to lead. It had never occurred to Jor-El to suggest himself or his brother for Supreme Chancellor.

In fact, at the time he had not even been speaking to Zor-El, over some argument he could not now remember. At the time it had been a grievous insult, and both brothers had felt wronged by it. All attempts by their wives to reconcile them had achieved nothing. It was not until they began preparing for the evacuation of Krypton-that-was that the two brothers spoke again, and by then the quarrel had vanished into unimportance. They would never be close, as different in temperament and opinion as they were, but for a brief while they had worked together without dissent. Then again, the fate of their entire race had depended on it.

The elder son of the House of El stepped closer, and murmured, "We would have made better heads of state than Dru-Zod, for neither of us desires the power and responsibility of sole rule, or even co-rule. Instead power rests in the hands of one who, if he did not crave it before, has learned to savor it. And we shall never be free until all our people stand against him."

"And how would you unite a people who were content to debate the very _existence_ of the danger until our planet was rocked by the earthquakes that presaged its final destruction?" Jor-El had finally answered heatedly, meeting Zor-El's glare with his own. "It matters not what we _should_ have done, only what we can do _now_."

Zor-El had laughed at that, loudly enough to be overheard, and Jor-El had noted with dismay that several other people turned to look. And then they had moved on hastily, as if Zor-El's outburst might be contagious.

He had taken Jor-El by one shoulder, still chuckling. "Ah, my dear brother, I see the dreamer _can_ be pragmatic at need. It grieves me to see you driven to this. But do not fear. There is a way to cause our people to rise up as one being, and I am in the process of achieving it."

With that he'd made to walk away, and Jor-El had hurried to catch up to him, bewildered and aggravated. The conversation so far had given him a brief, painful flashback to their shared childhood, when Zor-El had often taunted him with a particular variety of logic puzzle that had required one to look not at the problem it _seemed_ to present, but to focus on the terms of the puzzle itself.** Pursuing logical principles, Jor-El had always failed, unable to see the trick contained in the initial wording. Practical Zor-El had always seen through such things immediately, being unconcerned with perfecting his arguments and more interested in getting at the core truth of a situation. Jor-El had been the best debater of their generation, and yet Zor-El could always make him feel like a fool.

"What in Rao's name do you speak of?" he snapped, allowing his temper to show briefly. "If you continue as you are, all of my influence will not be sufficient to stop Dru-Zod from arresting you for treason! Do you not understand that, Zor-El?"

"I understand it perfectly," Zor-El had said in a low, even voice, all traces of inappropriate passion gone. "Yet it must still be done. Good day to you, my brother, and give my regards to Lara."

With that formal dismissal, Jor-El had stood stock still for a moment, watching his brother leave. If he understood, then…

…he could only intend to martyr himself. "Oh you fool," Jor-El had whispered under his breath, realizing the import of Zor-El's choice. It was not inconceivable that Dru-Zod could banish him to the Phantom Zone for treason. But if one of the sons of the House of El were so treated, for saying nothing more damning than that their society ought to return to the republican government that had served it for millennia, then surely the populace _would_ rise against the Supreme Chancellor and offer him no choice but resignation. If the tide of outrage were strong enough, Dru-Zod might also find himself exiled.

And _that_ self-destructive madness was his brother's ultimate plan.

It was while he was attempting to catch his breath after that stunning realization that Jor-El saw the very last person he expected to come face-to-face with upon this particular path. He blinked in surprise, and spoke her name before registering several essential facts.

Lois of the House of Lane looked up at him, her strange eyes wide with surprise. "Jor-El," she said, just as startled, but quickly remembered her manners. "May the sun rise upon our meeting."

He replied and turned to offer the same greeting to his son, but Kal-El was nowhere in sight. Only then did he understand what was wrong with the scene presented to him: Lois was accompanied by two other humans, a male and a female, with whom Jor-El had not made an acquaintance. He knew they were human only by the necklaces they wore. One bore the device of the House of En, the other he did not immediately recognize.

And all of them looked distinctly discomfited. What under the red sun were they doing unaccompanied? No other Kryptonians were in sight. "Forgive me, Lois, I had expected my son to be with you," he said to cover his long pause.

"I shall bring him your regards, Jor-El," Lois replied smoothly. Lara had told him her Kryptonese was getting better, and indeed, he would not have known she was from another world by her accent alone. "We are just returning home after our constitutional, and I can extend greetings on your behalf."

"Please do," he said, and stepped aside to let them pass. Apparently they were not engaged in illicit behavior, although he _would_ discuss this business of unaccompanied constitutionals with Kal-El.

According to Lara, he was overdue for a serious talk with his son, anyway.

…

Author's Footnotes:

* Okay, so he's around 18 or 19 in human years. Relax, we are not writing A Special Cross-Species Episode of "To Catch a Predator".

** Along the lines of the riddle: Which is correct, "The yolk of the egg are white" or "The yolk of the egg is white"? Most people will say the second one is correct. The true answer is, neither one is correct. The yolk of the egg is _yellow_. Although the Kryptonian version is much more complicated, this is the principle.


	22. Cautious Queries of Science and Progress

**Storming on and off here, so I figured I had better get this up while I can! Enjoy, all!**

* * *

The meetings with his brother and his son's human left Jor-El struggling to regain his composure, not a state in which he wanted to have yet another uncomfortable meeting, this time with the very individual he and Zor-El had been debating. If he allowed himself to think upon it, Dru-Zod _had _shown some disturbing tendencies of late. There was the way he had nearly struck his desk in anger … the icy expression Jor-El sometimes saw in his eyes, not the cool reserve of a rational man but the cold-burning fury of a tyrant … and then the one thing Jor-El would _not_ allow himself to think, but he had seen it anyway. Just a brief moment, coming to Dru-Zod's office early one day, and he had _thought_ he'd seen the Supreme Chancellor briefly touch the cheek of his second-in-command, Ursa.

It could not be, of course. His vision had been obscured by the translucent crystal door, and he could not be certain of what he'd seen. It was best that he forget the moment had ever occurred. Besides, that was a level of intimacy no sane Kryptonian would admit to.

Such a thing was … not as unheard of as they wished the children to believe, but even during the stress of the unprepared journey across galaxies, it had only occurred between wedded couples. If Jor-El had seen what he thought he'd seen, then Dru-Zod was behaving in a manner that suggested a frightening degeneracy. It called into question everything Jor-El believed about his erstwhile friend.

And it was on the realization that they were no longer truly friends, that he was locked into a dangerous game of chess against a man whose integrity and sanity he could no longer be certain of, that Jor-El arrived at the Supreme Chancellor's office to discuss the upcoming Council vote on mineral distribution.

His arrival did not help him regain any equilibrium. Dru-Zod greeted him cordially and invited him to sit, while moving to close the files on his screens. For a split second, Jor-El saw his brother's face staring from one of them, and his heart sank. _He knows, Zor-El is doomed, and I too will end this day banished into the Zone_, he thought.

Dru-Zod did not mention it, though, and he listened very thoughtfully to Jor-El's concerns about military construction. "We still have adult children sharing their families' homes," he pointed out, making his argument by rote while a small part of his brain waited for the black-clad Consulars to arrive and lead him away. "You are aware, I am sure, that is undesirable to allow adults other than married couples to cohabit."

"Ah, Jor-El, but we all lived aboard the fleet of great starships you designed, in rather closer quarters than any of these families, and we did not descend into madness," Dru-Zod pointed out reasonably.

"There were … aberrances," Jor-El said. He could not, even now, bring himself to speak of them, no matter what he had been thinking mere moments ago. Living in ridiculously close quarters, forced to interact every day with dozens of individuals, under constant stress, had resulted in several breakdowns in Kryptonian cultural norms, specifically those related to touch.

"Minor aberrances," Dru-Zod said dismissively.

That left Jor-El in a quandary. The aberrances of behavior had not been minor at all. It had gone far enough, in fact, that there were several children about who had _not _been conceived within the sterile environment of a birthing matrix. The populace at large had no idea such things had happened, and the couples involved had been deeply motivated to hide their shame.

Was Dru-Zod attempting to gloss over an unpleasant topic? Jor-El supposed so. In a world where the fact that he sometimes embraced his wife was a shocking level of regression to which he would never admit aloud, such things were difficult to think about, much less discuss. No matter what one might have done in the privacy of one's home (or office, his traitorous mind insisted on adding), some things simply were not talked about, ever.

It also was possible that Dru-Zod simply did not _know_. It was not necessarily within his purview. Jor-El knew only because Lara knew; it was part of her function to know. Historians kept the knowledge of their people's past, including the unsavory parts, and nothing of import was hidden from a senior historian even as it occurred. The biologists and doctors knew as well, at least some of them did. The biologists were just as aware as the historians that … certain drives … had not been bred out of Kryptonians in a mere millennium. The potential to regress existed in all of them, and only their cultural conditioning kept it at bay.

Deciding to skirt the topic entirely, as it was decidedly uncomfortable even to speculate upon, Jor-El chose a different tack. "We have a fleet of ships that are essentially invincible to the humans' remaining technology," he said. "I do not understand why it is necessary to build more."

Dru-Zod smiled sadly. "Do you believe that we and the humans are the only sentient life in this galaxy? And even if you do, my friend, are you willing to stake all of our futures on that belief? I would have our safety assured, our people protected from any threat that arises. Do not forget that these humans are technologically primitive, millennia behind us, and yet they destroyed the Rozz VI and slew its crew. What would you have us do if we encounter an advanced race that proves as hostile as the humans?"

"If there were such a race, the humans would have encountered them," Jor-El said.

"Perhaps they have. Their legends contain tales of visitors from the sky, some of which are helpful mentors, but many seem incomprehensible and cruel. Suppose there is a grain of truth behind those myths. I would not have our people lightly defended."

Jor-El remembered his son's point at dinner months ago, that most human cinema about contact with extraterrestrials centered around the concept of hostile takeover. What if those films were _not_ the product of a basically xenophobic mindset, but instead atavistic memories of true events? It was a frightening thought, to say the least.

"And if we discover that we and the humans truly are alone in this galaxy, they are more than enough with which to concern ourselves," Dru-Zod continued. "Surely you have noticed, Jor-El, that their primary traits are innovation and adaptation? Their technology _now_ is vastly inferior to ours, but they have been exposed to advanced science, and surely they will study it, learn from it, and innovate upon it. We cannot predict their course, cannot anticipate their actions. We can only be prepared for any eventuality."

"I had not considered either scenario," Jor-El admitted. He did not mention that the reason he'd never thought of humans adapting Kryptonian technology was because he honestly had not thought they would be mining on Earth for very long. In the back of his mind he had always believed an equable solution would be found, or that they would withdraw their forces in short order once a surplus of minerals were obtained. Now it seemed as though Dru-Zod had plans for a much more extensive occupation of the human homeworld.

"Of course you had not," Dru-Zod said. "You are an idealist, my friend, and an optimist. No ordinary man could even conceptualize evacuating our entire people from Krypton-that-was in the time we had left, and you not only conceived of it, you brought the idea to fruition. You never entertained the thought of what would become necessary if your plans were not completed in time. Such failure would never occur to you. That gives you a purity of focus that I, quite frankly, find humbling."

Now _that_ sounded like the Dru-Zod he'd once known, a man who acknowledged the differences in temperament between them and who valued Jor-El's philosophy. His heart lifted; this was why he refused to join Zor-El. Of all the Council members, only Jor-El had ever heard the Supreme Chancellor admit to being humbled. He still had the means to persuade Dru-Zod and avoid the terrible battle of wills that would occur if he attempted to defy him.

Dru-Zod had not yet finished speaking, however. "It is also in your nature to believe the best of people, a very worthy trait and yet a dangerous one. You do not think of how easily your trust can be betrayed. Some on the Council whom you would call friends have urged me to investigate your House. That, I will not do, for I trust you and know them to be cowards and scandalmongers. They are among the same ones who discredited you when you attempted to warn them of the impending doom that threatened us all. I know you have forgiven them, as is your nature, and surely you will forgive this fresh insult as well. Your generosity of spirit is noble indeed, Jor-El, but in some matters it is best to consider things from a more practical standpoint."

"I presume you refer to human matters," Jor-El replied numbly, still trying to absorb the news that some of the councilors—with whom he thought he had repaired friendships fractured by the debate about evacuating Krypton-that-was—were trying to have him arrested. For that was the certain outcome of an investigation. Zor-El would be imprisoned, and Jor-El would be questioned intensely.

"Indeed. I understand that you, and Kal-El for that matter, believe that these humans can reach a level of civilization equal to our own. At the moment, however, they still caught in their base past, and cannot yet be trusted as we would trust one another. For that reason, I do not think of them as they _could_ be, instead as they _are_, and what they are presently is a potential threat to the safety and security of our people."

Jor-El shook his head slowly. "I do not disagree with you, Dru-Zod. You are far wiser than I in matters of national security. However, we must balance the defense against a potential threat with the needs of our people _now_. Projects across the planet have ground to a halt for lack of mineral-enhanced crystal growth. We have so much we must do here, to make this world livable for our people, and I do not think the populace at large will tolerate the current situation for an extended period of time. The average Kryptonian does not consider these humans more than a distant threat, and will balk at delays caused by defense construction."

Dru-Zod sighed, rubbing his temples lightly. He looked like a man weary of the trials and travails of government, which gave Jor-El hope for the future. "I do understand the situation, old friend. If I were unaware of how the people complain, your brother would certainly bring it to my attention. In a perfect world we could trust the humans to remain quiescent while we continue to mine on their planet, and I could surrender the entire mineral shipment to civil construction. We do not live in that world, Jor-El. One needs only look at the black market price for the minerals to see that. Humans call it 'salt' and use it as a condiment to their meals; it is common and cheap on Earth. Imported here, it increases a hundredfold in value, and I am told certain individuals are artificially inflating the price by hoarding it."

Momentarily setting aside the veiled warning about his brother, Jor-El focused on the more important task at hand. The Council would not gainsay Dru-Zod, and if anyone could convince him to release the majority of the mineral shipment to civilian construction, it was Jor-El. He had already been quietly approached by several Councilors—likely the same ones who had approached Dru-Zod about arresting Zor-El, but then, a certain breed of politician always played at least two sides of any conflict.

Over the next half hour, Jor-El employed every skill he had ever learned in his debate courses and every ounce of personal persuasiveness he possessed. By doing so he managed to talk Dru-Zod down from appropriating a staggering three-fourths of the mineral shipments, to taking only one-third of the total volume. That would free up quite a lot more for construction and still leave a safe margin for Dru-Zod's military campaigning.

At the end of the negotiations, Jor-El was completely wrung out, and cut the pleasantries to the minimum acceptable before letting himself out. At least he had won a significant victory—or so he believed. He was unaware that Dru-Zod had decided well beforehand that one-third was the figure to which he would allow himself to be argued down.

Jor-El made his way home, unable to do more than take comfort in his day's work. He should have been proud, but he had too much to worry about. His brother was behaving irrationally, his son was fast becoming obsessed with his human, the other Councilors were conspiring against him, and his friendship with Dru-Zod was crumbling as his trust in the Supreme Chancellor eroded. How under the sun was he expected to manage all of those separate problems at once?

Heartsick, he returned home, where Lara awaited him. He saw her face when he walked in, the worry written there, and an instant's anger flashed forth within him. It was too clear that some small part of Lara had not expected him to return, that in the back of her mind she feared constantly that Dru-Zod would turn on them. It was she who had educated him thoroughly on the few dictatorships of Krypton's past, how they rose and fell, and being a historian she was never free from the awareness of what precarious times they lived in. For a moment, Jor-El hated Dru-Zod, the Council, even fate itself with a clean-burning fury for having put fear into her compassionate and generous heart.

He was not a man given to emotional extremes, however, and the moment passed. To act on those moments of passion was to doom his House, and he knew that too well. Instead Jor-El went to Lara as she came toward him, and he enfolded her in his arms. They stood in a silence filled with things of which they dared not speak.


	23. The Curious Duplicities of the Heart

I'm just going to smile here and tell you just to read. ;)

Also, just a head's-up that we'll be going out of town **April 22-29** and there will be no posting that weekend. The schedule will stay the same until then, _**ATU**_ next week and one more _**Love and Other Headaches**_ the day before we leave, but the posting schedule will pick back up on May 5. With the crazy insanity lately, we just need time to recharge and do some SERIOUS plotty goodness. Thanks for understanding in advance!

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Lois and Kal-El had kept missing each other that day; he was out of the house when she woke up, meeting with Jhan-Or on something to do with administrative responsibilities of running the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion. She waited for him a while, having a quick breakfast as prepared by his robots, then left a note and went out for her morning stroll.

Huang met her in the public gardens, and they talked lightly of inconsequential things. Lois had never been much of one for small talk; inane chatter bored her. She wanted a story, or at least some hard facts, to engage her mind. If a topic didn't interest her, or was blatantly specious, she would find a way to escape the conversation. But after several months on New Krypton, she was perfecting the art of blathering on about the weather and the various new species of plants in the gardens.

"Oh look, they got hydrangeas to grow here," she pointed out to Huang. Large clusters of blue flowers nodded beside the path. "Funny thing, the color of the flowers is controlled by the acidity of the soil. The more acidic it is, the bluer they are. If the soil's alkaline, the flowers are pink. Balance it just right and you get purple. Momma used to spend days in the front yard of our place in Fort Bening trying to get hers to bloom purple." She didn't give him the epilogue, which was just like most of her childhood stories: _and then Dad got new orders so we moved, and everything changed._

"Fascinating," Huang said. "When I was young, we had wisteria that same color growing by the door." Botanical observations occupied them until they reached a spot out of sight of any casual passersby. Quickly, the two humans hopped over the wall and headed for their prearranged meeting spot, where Geoffrey and Henri awaited them with a human woman Lois hadn't met yet.

No time for small talk; Henri spoke first. "We have a problem. The deadlock in the Council has broken; military construction will begin soon. The only break we're getting is that Jor-El apparently talked the Supreme Chancellor into taking a whole lot less of the salt shipment than he wanted. From what I've read of Tar-Kon's messages, he's the only one left who can sway Dru-Zod."

"Well, he bought us a little time, at least," Lois said.

Geoffrey nodded. "He did. Most of the current salt shipment and stockpile is going toward civilian construction, for which we can be grateful. Now we have a couple of tasks ahead of us—warning people back home about the military construction, and seeing what we can do about it."

"You mean sabotage," Huang said quietly.

"Yes," Henri replied. "It's the logical next step." Lois felt the hairs at the nape of her neck stand up. Passing information was one thing, but deliberate sabotage…. Then again, anything that bettered the odds for Earth was worth risking.

After a moment to make sure they were all on board with the plan, Geoffrey spoke up again. "To that end, I've brought Gabriela Bernardes with me today. She's a chemist, and even better, she's assigned to a Kryptonian host whose specialty is crystal architecture."

Gabriela nodded to the rest of the group. She was somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties, with golden-bronze skin and dark hair highlighted caramel. When she spoke, her English was crisp and lightly accented. "This is the situation we face. The crystals apparently need an ionizing solution to grow properly, which is not unexpected. I do not know why table salt is the specific ionic compound necessary; it may be the abundance of salt, or its high electrical conductivity, or some other factor related to one of the ions themselves. I highly doubt that Kryptonians, science-based as they are, never tested other solutions' efficacy, so we must assume that they require saltwater specifically. Our task will be to somehow alter those solutions so as to affect the crystal growth."

"And do it without getting caught," Lois pointed out. "If they have the slightest idea of sabotage, we'll all be suspects."

"Yes, of course. Now, I have looked into our options. Our first problem will be obtaining access to the saltwater used for military construction, but I shall leave that aside for the moment. Once we have access, there are several things we could do. Adding silver nitrate to the saltwater would cause a chemical reaction that would rearrange the ion formation, but it would leave telltale traces in the solution. Other compounds have essentially the same problem. Certain types of ion-exchange resins might be able to remove the sodium and chloride ions from the solution, but again, they are quite obvious—and difficult to come by as well."

Gabriela smiled then, dark eyes alight with a predatory gleam that made Lois smile back. "The simplest way of sabotaging the military growth is also the one that leaves the least evidence. If we change the concentration of the saltwater solution, the crystal growth will be affected. We cannot feasibly desalinate it, so we must look at changing the salinity by other means. Fortunately, for complex structures such as these military ships, any significant degree of deviance in either direction will serve out purposes. Increased salinity causes too-rapid crystal growth with distortion of certain fine details of construction. Decreased salinity slows the growth and also results in distortions."

Huang looked concerned. "Salt is possibly the most valuable substance on this planet at the moment, so I doubt we can add salt to the solution without getting caught."

"Ah, but we can increase or decrease the amount of _water_ by several different methods," Gabriela pointed out. "Best of all, our efforts will appear to be malfunction or negligence, and should go undiscovered for some time."

"It looks like our first task is going to be figuring out just where the construction will take place, and how much security we have to deal with," Geoffrey said.

"I can get the security specs, and possibly the location," Henri offered.

"I want to keep Lois out of this," Huang said thoughtfully.

"_What?_ Hell no, I'm in," she snapped.

"You're the youngest," Geoffrey began, and she bristled.

Huang spoke before she could. "That's unimportant. Lois has the best rapport with her captor, and he's been extremely useful. We can't take the risk of jeopardizing Kal-El's trust in her. He's too important a source of information, and through him she may also have a slim chance of influencing Jor-El."

"You're right," Henri mused, and Geoffrey nodded. "Lois, you'll have to sit this one out. You're too important to the overall goal."

She couldn't help pouting slightly. Only a moment ago she'd been worrying about the risk, but that had vanished when it seemed Huang and Geoffrey were implying she wasn't up to the challenge. Lois' reaction to having doubts cast upon her competency was so predictable as to be inevitable. It was highly unlike her to choose the safe and sensible option, and her defiant soul resisted having it forced on her. "If anyone gets caught, I'll still be a suspect. They'll be after _all_ the humans, and I've been seen with you all often enough to get myself condemned as a conspirator even if I'm nowhere near when this goes down."

"You're the only one who could conceivably talk herself out of such a situation," Gabriela put in. "We must not put you in any unnecessary danger."

"It might even be best if we limited contact—" Geoffrey began.

Lois cut him off abruptly. "_No_. I can't be of any use to anyone unless I know what's going on. Don't you dare cut me out of the loop, Geoffrey."

"She has a point. Besides, if we suddenly stopped associating with Lois, it could be construed as more suspicious than maintaining our acquaintance," Huang countered.

With a little more grumbling, they managed to negotiate the situation. Lois would be kept informed of the saboteurs' plans and activities as well as everything else within the Resistance. No one would attempt to conceal information from her, and she would not be kept out of any of the ongoing efforts without extraordinarily good reason. "For after all, though we have no single definitive leader for our enemies to persecute, the rest of the Resistance recognizes each of us as organizers, and knows Lois is one of our chief assets," Huang added.

That had startled her, and as they'd all gone their separate ways it continued to haunt the back of her mind. Not having a single leader, well, that was a good thing for their sort of group. Rigid hierarchies were a point of weakness in guerrilla organizations: take out a charismatic leader, and the rest wandered off leaderless. But since the Resistance relied on several main organizers and open dissemination of information among its many members, there were no key ringleaders to round up. Even if Geoffrey, Henri, and Huang were captured—even if Lois herself was captured—the rest would go on. They were acting on a shared desire to escape captivity, not according to any one person's orders.

Although, now that she thought about it, Lois had been in on all of the major breakthroughs. Her father held an important position within the most powerful military in the world, and he served a crucial function in this conflict. And not only did she have the best rapport with her Kryptonian host, but he was from a politically important family and was himself a member of the society that was working to better living conditions for humans on New Krypton. None of that made her any more a leader of the Resistance than Henri or the others, but it did make her far more important than she'd suspected.

Some young women, having discovered something like that at the tender age of seventeen, might have developed inflated egos. _Importance_ was a heady feeling, after all. For Lois, stranded on a foreign world in the midst of battle being fought by subterfuge and espionage, it only unsettled her. She didn't like feeling as though she was a lynchpin to the Resistance; that was more pressure than she wanted to handle. Being Lois, she would rise to the challenge, but for the moment all she wanted to do was curl up on the couch and whimper.

That was how Kal-El found her some time later, huddled in a little ball in the corner of the couch. He came to her immediately, his hand on her shoulder as he sat down beside her. "Lois, what's wrong?"

She didn't even notice that he'd used a contraction for the first time—something that didn't exist in Kryptonese, and which none of them used when speaking English to the humans. Lois looked up at him, her chest feeling heavy with the weight of all the things she couldn't say. Instead of speaking, she leaned into him, letting his arms enfold her.

"I will keep you safe," he murmured against her hair, and held her. Lois _felt_ safe, finally, and clung to him, gripping the thin material of his sleeve. Closing her eyes, she let her breathing slow down, surrounded by his warmth and surety. Being with Kal-El this way felt like entering a separate world within the circle of his arms, a place where the rest of her worries and fears couldn't intrude. A place where it didn't matter that his people were keeping her captive.

She supposed it was the same for him. Here, with her face nuzzled in against his throat and her hip pressed against his leg, he certainly didn't seem to worry about human germs or the monstrous impropriety of their behavior. Instead he sighed quietly against her hair, and stroked her back soothingly.

Lois sighed too; his warm palm making slow circles over her tense muscles was exactly what she needed. She let herself all but collapse against him, not thinking that she was practically in his lap, not thinking about anything but that for this one moment she could forget the Resistance and the war bubbling beneath the surface, forget sabotage and conspiracy, forget everything but the fact that Kal-El cared for her and wanted her to be relaxed and happy.

Instead of drawing away from the increased contact, he tightened his other arm around her, and softly kissed the top of her head. What happened next seemed only natural at the time, the logical progression of events. Lois tilted her head back and kissed him, first the curve of his jaw, then his mouth.

This time there was no instant of stiffened shock as there had been when she kissed him the night of her terrible nightmare. This time, Kal-El returned the kiss gently, and he showed no inclination to stop. Lois answered that willingness with another kiss, and when he replied in kind she kissed him yet again.

Turned toward each other, his arm around her waist and her hand on his shoulder, Lois and Kal-El kissed for long minutes. When she deepened the kiss, his mouth tasted faintly sweet to her, and she murmured wordlessly in contentment.

Unthinking, she shifted closer to him, curling one leg over his. This was just a moment out of time, one thing she could have for herself without worrying about his culture or her circumstances. And it was deliciously, deliriously tender, nothing like any other kiss of her life. Most boys she'd kissed had been aggressive, seeking to get past kissing to what they _really_ wanted from her.

Not Kal-El. He had no prior experience of kissing, no demands, no expectations. Like her, he had put the world on hold for this, for the caress of lips and tongues that set every nerve singing with delight. A wonderful almost-shiver ran up and down Lois' spine, practically making her purr, and she kissed him with more intensity, losing herself in sweetness.

After a while, though, she had to admit she needed air more than his kisses, and drew back with a soft laugh. The look in his eyes silenced her; those royal blue depths suddenly held an expression of longing that simultaneously woke her appetite for more and cooled her ardor.

On the one hand, no one had ever looked at her like that, as if she was the most beautiful and desirable person in the galaxy. On the other, reality abruptly intruded into their pretended safety: neither of them should've been doing this. Especially not with each other, especially not now. _This is so, so wrong,_ she thought, but even the voice in the back of her mind didn't sound convinced.

"Kal-El…" she trailed off, not knowing what to say, but he seemed to wake up as if from a trance, giving himself a slight shake.

"You're right," he said, distracted, even though she hadn't said anything other than his name. Instead of elaborating, he gave her a helpless, adoring smile.

Lois smiled back, and leaned in for one last chaste kiss on the cheek. She wanted to say something, but couldn't quite think of the words to express her thoughts and feelings. Instead she simply went to her own room, to lie down and think about what had just happened. It was certainly better than thinking about anything else at the moment.


	24. Dawning Revelations From Within

**Back from vacation that was over FAR too soon. ;) So now we dive head-first right back into your regularly scheduled bi-weekly schedule. :D Enjoy, all!**

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If Kal-El had given the matter any thought—which he could not, since maintaining the status quo required that he not think too deeply on it—he would have noticed that he was essentially becoming two people. One, his private self, could spend an hour snuggled up to Lois, kissing her thoroughly and leisurely, and never for an instant think it improper. It was simply too perfect and wonderful to be wrong.

Meanwhile his public face was an earnest and studious young man who observed Kryptonian propriety as strictly as any of his elders could desire. While having dinner with his parents or meeting with the members of the Benevolent Society, he allowed no hints of his other self to show.

Of course, even then he was intelligent and insightful, and few things escaped his notice. His father's increasing pressure to settle down and marry was too obvious to ignore, even if it threatened the precious balance by which Kal-El reconciled his current situation. Still he resisted. Neither he nor Lyla Ler-Ol was in any haste to wed, and he was embroiled in far more important ventures, anyway.

Daily Jhan-Or took him into deeper confidence. "Come, Kal-El, I would show you something," he said one day, and brought the younger man into his lab.

It was not what he expected. Jor-El was a physicist, but the scope of his imagination was not limited to that science alone, and his lab contained many types of equipment. So his son had seen biological experiments before, but not on this scale. The delicate dance of microorganisms beneath a powerful microscope had been fascinating in Kal-El's youth, before he gravitated toward the study of sentient life.

Now Jhan-Or ushered him into a room more devoted to biology, one that hummed with energy. An entire wall was given to growing various seedlings, some of which Kal-El recognized as native to New Krypton, some from Old Krypton, and even some from Earth. Above a workbench were many tanks of liquid, some clear and fresh, others green and stagnant. And on the main bench were a variety of microscopes and other instruments.

"What is it you wished to show me?" he asked, peering at the various experiments.

"This. Look into this microscope, Kal-El, and tell me what you see." Jhan-Or stood beside one of the larger devices, which Kal-El recognized as one that could show extremely small organisms.

He peered into it, and adjusted the focus until he saw a flock of tiny things moving about. Some were round blobs, others were longer strands. As he watched, one of the blobs enveloped one of the strands. "I see several types of microbes, most unfamiliar to me. Jhan-Or, where did you find this?"

"I wished to demonstrate our imaging technology to Huang, and took a sample from the mucous membrane of his mouth," Jhan-Or answered. Kal-El immediately sat up and looked at him. "You can imagine my surprise when I discovered he is host to a veritable menagerie of microorganisms. We Kryptonians, of course, have a similar symbiotic relationship with a certain type of bacteria that lives in our digestive systems, but nothing like this diversity of types and species. Humans appear to have several similar symbiotic arrangements, as well as some species that are quasi-parasitic. They appear to be present at all times in healthy humans, but can cause problems if their host becomes ill and the body's immune system cannot keep them in check."

"All humans have these?" Kal-El asked.

"All that I have tested. They are present on every inch of skin that has not been recently sterilized."

A note of alarm rose in Kal-El's voice. "Are these organisms harmful to Kryptonians?"

"So far they appear not to be." Jhan-Or cut him a quick, intent look. "I managed to discreetly test several hosts, including myself. It appears that all of us who have a human in our homes quickly acquire our own colonies."

Kal-El froze. That meant he too had this veritable _zoo_ of single-celled creatures living on his skin. Right now. But the further implications…. "How could such things possibly spread?" he asked warily.

Jhan-Or shrugged. "The organisms transfer easily via shared objects—we have been using the same touch-screens as our guests, after all."

"Don't our ultrasonic showers remove such creatures?"

"Most, but not all. Kal-El, regardless of what you have been taught, there is no such thing as _perfect_ sterility. All the cleansing measures available to even a technologically advanced species such as we are can only guarantee a 99.99% reduction in the flora and fauna present. And even 0.01% is still a viable population. You will find no surface in any Kryptonian home that does not have at least a _few_ such creatures living on it, I guarantee. Such things are sometimes even beneficial, as they are for the humans. The microorganisms living on their skin help to keep it clean, and human doctors believe that their presence also helps keep the humans' immune systems active and healthy."

Kal-El mulled that over for a moment. All his life, he had assumed that the Kryptonian emphasis on cleanliness had sterility as its goal. He would never have guessed that he shared his home, even his skin, with microorganisms.

Jhan-Or continued, "What truly interests me is this. Here, Kal-El, look at this slide." Saying so, he swapped the old slide for a new one, and the younger Kryptonian peered into the viewer again.

After a moment, he admitted defeat. "I see no difference, Jhan-Or."

"Precisely," the biologist said, his eyes ablaze. "This slide appears very similar to a sample taken from a human, or from one of us who hosts a human. However, it came from a Kryptonian who not only does not have a human in his home, he has had no contact whatsoever with humans. And every other sample from similar circumstances shows the same results."

"So _all_ of us are now contaminated with these creatures?" Kal-El asked. As uncomfortable as it made him, a small part of his brain was sighing with relief. If everyone on New Krypton had the same microorganisms, all originally acquired from humans, there was no need for him to worry what a sample taken from _himself_ would show. For after all, he had had much more contact with Lois than any other Kryptonians had with their humans.

"Yes. They appear to do no harm, which is fortunate, since we have little hope of exterminating them. Perhaps they will even come to replace the beneficial species we lost during the plague years." Jhan-Or sighed. "That was a sorrowful and regretful period in our people's history, Kal-El. The paranoia of the plague era cost us much, not just in biodiversity. We also lost much of our warmth, our spontaneity, as a culture. That cost is harder to count, but it is no less real."

"Perhaps the humans will bring that back to us," Kal-El offered, carefully.

"Perhaps they shall, and it will be as quietly pervasive as these microbes," Jhan-Or replied.

He paused for a moment, looking at Kal-El shrewdly. "Of course, it may be that much of what I called lost may not truly be gone. Perhaps much of what we once were remains to this day, simply hidden within us, awaiting only the proper circumstance to bring it out. Would you agree, Kal-El?"

"Of what, specifically, do you speak?" he asked, and knew he'd gone too far.

Jhan-Or shrugged. "Indeed, what _do_ I mean? Forgive an old man his vague maunderings. Surely such talk bores you."

Kal-El hastened to recover the moment. "Not at all. If you speak in generalities, it is because your wisdom covers a great breadth of knowledge. Please, enlighten me."

The older Kryptonian wavered, then gave in. "Very well. What, in your opinion, is the chief difference between our culture and human culture?"

"I am inclined to say our technology, but that is only part of culture," Kal-El ventured. Jhan-Or nodded encouragingly, and he continued, "Human culture is extremely diverse, so to compare us on a species-to-species basis, I must consider _all_ the varied cultures of Earth, and look to their commonalities."

"That is as I intended. And what do you see that differentiates them from us?"

Kal-El took a deep breath. This was not a conversation he could imagine having with his father, but then, Jhan-Or was an associate, not a relative. And they had already broached dangerous topics before. "The most obvious difference is in the human's interpersonal relationships. They are much more intimate—with their loved ones, their friends, even mere acquaintances—than we are."

Jhan-Or nodded slowly. "Precisely. Emotional intimacy and physical intimacy are an important part of human culture. What interests me is their emphasis on touch."

"They are quite fond of touch," Kal-EL said. "All of the humans here embrace one another at every meeting. It is unseemly to us, of course."

"All things must be taken in their proper context, Kal-El. For the humans, a hug in greeting is not only a fairly common gesture. It also serves as reassurance and acknowledgement of group identity. It reminds them of their common experience here, that they are still human no matter how surrounded they are by our world and all its strangeness."

"And we are strange to them. It behooves us never to forget that," Kal-El added.

An interested light flickered in Jhan-Or's eyes. "So, let us discuss the human obsession with physical contact. If the topic is not too distasteful to you, of course."

"We are both scientists. I believe we can maintain objectivity." Kal-El smiled slightly, and Jhan-Or returned it.

Jhan-Or had been a teacher, and during his studies in biology, Kal-El had been required to view some of the holographic recordings of his lectures. So the tone that Jhan-Or slipped into was quite familiar as his 'lecture' voice. "I have been reading the human scientific journals, and discovered something fascinating. Touch is so important to them, they believe—and have many studies supporting this belief—that denying touch to an infant or a child results in abnormal development. Not merely social development, either. The lack of loving touch retards emotional maturity and slows the learning process. Human children who are not held or touched by a loved one perform markedly worse in all types of standard aptitude tests."

"So touch is not merely something humans crave, it is something they actually _need_." The conclusion amazed Kal-El, and assuaged the lingering guilt he felt about his behavior with Lois. He was not just crossing an enormous cultural boundary. He was giving her something she needed, the affectionate touch that was a defining characteristic of her species.

Or at least, that was what he told himself. In truth, he had come to crave closeness with her to a degree that would have frightened him, if he let himself think about it. Kal-El did not allow himself to ponder what was going on between them. When he kissed Lois, all that existed was the moment and the two of them. No past, no future, no social taboos, no war. Just the silken feel of her lips against his, the warmth of her skin when he caressed her, the little sighs and whimpers she made that sent delicious shivers down his spine. When he was away from Lois, he never let himself think of it; when he was with her, he thought of nothing else.

Except Jhan-Or seemed determined to breach that wall in his thinking that kept him sane. He spoke in a low, musing tone. "We were like them, once. Before the clone war and the plagues that followed. A thousand years ago, there were no birthing matrices on Krypton-that-was, and we were as affectionate with each other as the humans are."

No birthing matrices? But then…. Kal-El flushed at the realization. "Surely we have left such behavior far behind us."

Jhan-Or gave him a stern look, and for a moment Kal-El believed that he somehow _knew_, and the guilt came roaring back. None of his own people would understand, none of them knew how purely right it felt to kiss Lois, he would be a pariah for the rest of his life….

But Jhan-Or's next words disproved that hypothesis. "If we have _truly_ abandoned the dependence on touch, Kal-El, then how did the microbes spread so quickly? I suggested the transfer might have taken place via touch screens and other objects, but then how do Kryptonians who do not have a human in their homes acquire microorganisms from Earth? Such things do not spread via the aerosol method. It requires contact of some sort."

It was put forth as a challenge, and Kal-El answered carefully. "The only conclusion I can make is that one of us must have touched something that was then touched by someone else who did not have a human."

Shaking his head, Jhan-Or replied, "And what might that something be? How often in a given day do you touch something you do not own, Kal-El? Furthermore, it must be so common an object that _everyone_ on this planet has handled it. So far my random samples show one hundred percent exposure to Earth microbes."

That stumped him, and the older Kryptonian made an irritated noise. "You are an intelligent young man. The answer is before you. Only your preconceptions blind you to it, and I will not remove the obstruction from your sight when you have the means to do so yourself."

There was only one more logical conclusion, but it was momentous to a son of Krypton. "Perhaps … perhaps there is a great deal more touch, even casual touch, going on between our own people than anyone suspects?" he offered, flinching.

Jhan-Or studied him for a long moment. "Have you never seen your father take your mother's hand and look into her eyes, and the two of them smile at each other with perfect understanding that words could only diminish?"

Again, Kal-El's cheeks warmed with a shameful blush. It was one thing to discuss such things in abstract, another to relate it to his own parents. "It is unseemly," he muttered.

"A thousand years of cultural conditioning speaks in those three words," Jhan-Or observed.

"Are we not better for having broken our dependence on primitive means of accomplishing things?" Kal-El asked in desperation.

"Are we? Do you think we are better than the humans, Kal-El?"

"No," he said automatically. "But we are different."

"Not so different. We resemble each other sufficiently that, in the absence of certain traits like your Lois' eye color, it would be impossible to tell one species from the other without sophisticated analysis. We have the same number of chromosomes as well, an unusual feature. It may be that our two peoples are distantly related in some way—it might even be possible to interbreed."

Kal-El's brain locked up then. For the first time in his life, he literally could not think. He merely stared at the older man.

Jhan-Or appeared not to notice. "The main differences between us are cultural, and some of our … societal pretensions could benefit from a rational, logical review."

"Why?" Kal-El managed to ask. "Why not leave things as they are?"

"Because I am a biologist, not a psychologist or even a sociologist. I know that intimacy might become shameful in a generation, but the drive toward it was set by countless millennia of evolution. It cannot be bred out in a thousand years. We are still a social species, and it is those bonds of affection that keep us from drifting apart. I believe that only our stubborn and supposedly shameful craving for contact has kept us from becoming entirely solitary."

"Surely it would never go so far," Kal-El protested.

"Why not? With the technology we possessed on Krypton-that-was, there was no reason why any of us needed to cohabit at all. There was no housing shortage and no limit on construction, for we had all the crystal and electrolyte solution we required to terraform the majority of the planet to our use. We could easily have each lived apart from one another, conversing only by hologram, allowing our robots to make the arrangements for the next generation to be conceived within birthing matrices. Why did we still choose to live together then, when we had the choice, if not because we still possess a longing for the kind of emotional intimacy and physical proximity that the humans so exemplify?"

For that, Kal-El had no answer. Jhan-Or chose to abandon sophistry then, and lay out his conclusion. "Culture evolves swiftly, Kal-El. It makes sweeping changes seemingly overnight. Biology can make great leaps in evolution, but it does not wholly cast aside what has worked for it before. There are always remnants, perhaps useless in the current circumstances, merely waiting for the need to arise before they become relevant again. And the history of our people for the past few decades has been filled with turmoil and strife. When else would we find ourselves in need of comfort and reassurance that mere words cannot provide?"

He paused, and took a step nearer to Kal-El, one that broached polite conversational distance. At the same time Jhan-Or lowered his voice. "I will tell you now what is not known by the majority of our people, but your mother as a historian surely knows of it. What seems unthinkable to you now—has happened, and recently. During the journey to this world, we were all confined much more closely than we had been in millennia, and under significant stress. Breaches of conduct that would seemingly destroy the very fabric of Kryptonian society occurred, and were carefully hidden from the public eye. Life has gone on much as before with only the barest of pauses.

"And your generation, Kal-El, grew up in that hothouse atmosphere of desperation. Most of you were never consciously aware of it, our people being too well-trained to conceal displays of strong emotion, but it is most likely that every one of your generation has seen their parents holding hands. Some have even seen a kiss. And despite the terrible shame those couples endured for their transgression, the world has not ended. No one died of plague during the journey, no matter what they did."

Kal-El's eyes had gone wide. "Now the humans come among us, and they hug each other openly, and none of them grow ill. By Rao, the most stringent of Kryptonian taboos is being weakened under our very noses, and none of us even suspects!"

Jhan-Or laughed at that. "Oh, no, some of us suspect. The biologists, if they are wise enough to study history, knew it was coming. The doctors who helped conceal—they know it has begun. And the historians always know everything, sometimes before it happens. Be of good cheer, Kal-El. It seems you shall witness a revolution in your lifetime—of one kind or another."

But on that other topic he would only hint, and never reveal what he meant.


	25. Breathless Increments of Borrowed Time

**Been yet another crazy week at Chez Roy-Joos, so we overslept this morning and we were late as a result. Here's hoping that the chapter makes up for it. We think it just might.**

* * *

Not every stroll was a clandestine meeting of the Resistance, not every day part of an over-all plot. Lois and the rest of the humans also went walking for exercise, and just for a change of scenery. Sometimes she even went out of habit, because she'd grown accustomed to taking long walks several times a day.

This was one of those out-of-habit walks. Lois expected nothing out of the ordinary, just a simple stroll through the gardens. But she felt a tension in the air that was unusual for New Krypton. Considering how much as these people despised emotional extremes, any public gathering of Kryptonians tended to be highly civil and formal. To Lois even casual meetings often felt like state functions, there was so much decorum floating around. But not today.

Today everyone she saw seemed preoccupied and anxious—and she didn't see many, even taking into account the fact that Kryptonian weren't an outdoorsy people by nature. A little shiver ran down her spine. Something wasn't right here. It unsettled her enough that she cut her walk short with an anxious little frown, heading homeward with a feeling like a storm was about to break.

Almost back to Kal-El's house, and Henri caught up to her. The first words out of his mouth confirmed what she already felt in her gut. "Lois, you have to get home immediately," he whispered urgently.

"Already going," she replied, searching his face for clues. The shiver grew worse. This couldn't be good. "What's going down?"

Henri glanced both ways, but no one saw them. He pulled her close in what surely looked like a worried hug, Lois' fear growing, and murmured, "The operation was supposed to be tomorrow night. But when our people got there to check it over, the salinity was already skewed. Someone else sabotaged the construction before we could." With that, he stepped back and took hold of her shoulders. "Take care, Lois."

There wasn't time to be visibly stunned. _Oh God, no wonder everyone's freaking out. Oh God._ Making herself form some semblance of a smile, determined to not give them away any further, she braced herself . "Take care, Henri," she replied as they parted. Her mind running a million miles a second, Lois made herself lock down feelings before she made herself continue on her path. No one could suspect. She didn't—_couldn't_—break into a run, but Lois hurried, trying to keep the guilty knowledge off her face. If the military construction was compromised, the humans would be the first suspects, and none of them were prepared. Rarely had she given herself the luxury of being scared on this planet. At this moment, she was terrified.

She had made it to Kal-El's house, her entire being focused solely on getting there without giving her emotional state away, and was actually on the doorstep when she heard the low hum of a vehicle overhead. Dreading what she might see, Lois looked up, and saw that the hovercraft was painted flat black—and only the military police, the damn Consulars, used that color scheme. She felt herself start to shake then. _This is it. Busted. It's over. We're screwed._

But even as the craft banked to hover above her, the door opened and Kal-El stepped out, looking up curiously. "Remain indoors," a gruff voice announced.

"We were just going for a walk," Kal-El started to say, his public word choice formal as always.

Whoever was on the craft interrupted him. "Remain indoors. Supervise the human closely. The Supreme Chancellor will make an announcement within the hour." On that note, they left.

Lois breathed a sigh of relief as she and Kal-El went indoors. They must've thought she was just stepping out, not just walking in, or they would've questioned her for sure. And she had no idea what she would've said to them.

Kal-El had lied for her. She wasn't sure _what_ to make of that. Lois knew there was something between them—well, all the kissing and snuggling was a hint there, especially with his background—but she hadn't thought he would lie to _cops_ for her so readily. He seemed like one of those innately law-abiding individuals. It didn't seem to make him very comfortable to do it, either.

She didn't get time to process anything that had just happened, though, because Kal-El took hold of her elbow gently, catching her attention. "Lois? Do you have any idea what's going on?" he asked, falling back into their usual pattern of speech.

The answer was immediate and a part of her hated herself for it. "Not a clue. I was just out for a walk and that happened," she told him. It was the truth, really, in a way.

"There was a broadcast announcement a few minutes ago, telling everyone to go home and wait for further news." Kal-El was fretting, clearly worried. He stroked her shoulder as if trying to comfort both of them.

That left her feeling a cramp of guilt in her belly, her emotions getting jumbled up again now that she was here with him. There were times, and this was one of them, when Lois wanted to just _tell him_. About the Resistance, about her involvement in it, about the ultimate plan to get back home. Maybe she could get him to understand and maybe she could stop feeling like the worst kind of liar. But she found herself biting her tongue, as always, and telling him only what was safe to share. "No one was really outside anyway, and they all looked nervous."

"Were you seen before you got home?"

The anxiety she heard in his voice didn't nothing to help assuage any of her shame. Trying not to bite her lip, Lois shook her head. "The Consulars didn't turn up until I was at the door. Thank you for that, by the way. Quick thinking."

"Something's got them upset. I didn't want them taking you off for questioning. It's not as if you could've had anything to do with whatever happened, anyway."

Oh, _that_ was a knife to the heart. Lois couldn't help feeling like she was betraying him. _Actually I kind of have a lot to do with something that would __**really**__ piss them all off. But I promise I wasn't in on the sabotage. First off, some of __**your**__ people did that before we could. Second, the Resistance doesn't want to jeopardize my relationship with you._ Yeah, that would make him flip his lid for sure.

Before she could even begin to think of something to say, Kal-El swept her into his arms and kissed her hair. Lois responded automatically, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning into him. Giving and taking comfort, even if she had secrets from him, she still trusted him and hoped against hope that he could trust her even now.

Fear did strange things to people; Lois had learned that long ago. That was why it didn't really surprise her that Kal-El nuzzled down to her cheek, nudged her lightly, and then kissed her mouth. A long, sweet, searching kiss, the kind that tended to make the world disappear. The kind of kiss they'd been having more and more often of late. Her response was swift and hot, to no surprise considering the danger she found herself in of late.

But it wasn't going to be more than a few kisses. The holographic panel lit up, and Kal-El and Lois pulled away from each other as fast as if they'd been walked in on. Lois gasped, her stomach dropping to what felt like her knees; the Supreme Chancellor's face was on the panel, and he looked downright furious. _Of course he does. Someone fucked with his precious ships. The sixty-four million dollar question is, who's he going to blame?_ _And what will be the fall-out from it?_

Dru-Zod's voice was clipped and formal, but the anger still came through. As he spoke of sabotage, of traitors and separatists in their midst, Kal-El's arm crept back around her shoulders protectively. "We shall not rest until these saboteurs are brought to light, and exposed as the criminals they are," Supreme Chancellor Zod proclaimed. "Those who have committed this act of perfidy will be punished to the full extent the law allows. All who have sheltered them from the eyes of the law, will pay the same price as if they aided in the treachery itself."

There was more, but neither of them even noticed. Kal-El was shaking like a leaf. And that was not what she had been expecting. Lois put her hand to his cheek and made him look at her. _God, please don't let him have known I was involved somehow._ "Kal-El. What is it? What are you thinking?"

His voice was distant, stunned, his answer not what she was expecting. "Zor-El. My uncle. It must have been him, or his followers. Dru-Zod will know, he must already know where to look. My uncle will be banished into the Phantom Zone…."

A chill ran up Lois' spine at that. She'd heard of the Phantom Zone, and to her way of thinking it was worse than the death penalty for which it was supposedly a more humane replacement. Eternal imprisonment—no hunger, no thirst, no aging, no death … and no respite. Trapped forever as a ghost in a hell that needed no devils.

"It might not have been him," Lois said, catching his chin now, trying to keep Kal-El's attention on her. This was just going from bad to worse. How had she not known about what his uncle was up to? God, how had he gotten caught twice-over in the middle of this? "I mean, he's an El. He wouldn't do anything that crazy, would he?"

"Maybe he wouldn't, but those who listen to him would. Everyone knows he speaks openly of defiance against the state. Some of his followers are young and foolish, they might have taken his words to action. And for that Dru-Zod will have him arrested as a conspirator. He might search the entire House of El for evidence of treason." The dawning horror in Kal-El's eyes was too much for Lois to bear.

She pulled him close in a tight hug, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. A few moments ago she'd been most worried for herself and her people. Now she was more scared for him. "They'll never drag you into this. There's nothing you've done that could bring suspicion…."

Kal-El laughed softly without humor, lapsing back into formal speech. "No, only my aunt and my cousin. And I have more than ten black market items in my living room, Lois, were they to search. That is enough to suspect. And I keep company with known subversive elements. If this happens as I fear, I could end up jeopardizing the work of the Benevolent Society. All of us could be implicated in this, as sympathizers to the human cause." He shuddered again, squeezing her almost painfully tight.

In another time, Lois would have wondered what he meant by the work of the Benevolent Society. So far they had improved conditions for the humans, but he sounded like he meant something much more important than that. At the moment, however, she was just scared out of her mind.

Afraid for her fellow conspirators in the Resistance. Afraid for Kal-El and his family. Afraid for the Kryptonians who seemed to genuinely like humans and want the best for them. Most of all, afraid for her family back home. Any punitive action would strike them hardest, if the humans were at all implicated. Lois burrowed in against Kal-El, seeking safety in his arms just as he was seeking it in hers.

Because she was trying to suppress her own apprehensive shivers, Lois at first didn't realize that Kal-El's hands were shaking. She squeezed him tighter, and then pulled back, tilting her face up. If there was only way to take some of the panic away for both of them, she'd do anything for it. He kissed her then, relief and reassurance in it.

They were both young, they both cared deeply about one another, and they both had adrenaline coursing through their veins from the shock of the announcement and the fears they harbored. So it was little surprise that comfort turned into something else. _We could all get arrested tomorrow or worse. It could all be over in a day,_ Lois thought, and then drowned that fear in the rush that swept over her whenever she kissed Kal-El.

He had never been like the boys back home, never hasty and hurried. Whenever he'd kissed her, it had been slow and intense, like waves swelling out to sea compared to shallow breakers onshore. The breakers might have been flashier and noisier, but the true power was in the oceanic waves that rolled gracefully and inexorably.

For the first time, there was an element of urgency between them. Kal-El held her tighter, kissed her harder. He must've been thinking the same things she was, about how unstable their lives had just become. In truth, what she'd thought was unshakably solid turned out to be less substantial than gossamer. There was no safety here, no security, and the illusion of a halfway normal life she'd found in these moments with him was only an image projected on smoke.

Still, Kal-El was the one thing Lois couldn't let go of. True, she had a mission here, more important than anything else, but if Kal-El wound up accused of treason then her part in the Resistance was over. She'd surely be implicated, and the only way the rest of the humans would be able to save themselves would be to cut her out of their plans entirely. Assuming she survived being accused, that was.

Right now, right here, he was what she cared most about. All of the stupid taboos in the world meant exactly nothing to her right now. Not the fact that they were little more than kids trying to be adults, that touch alone amongst his people was the worst kind of perversity, not that they were completely different species. She didn't give a damn about any of it in this moment. Lois didn't know when exactly she'd started to fall for him—maybe from minute one, with those adorable blue eyes and his open delight at seeing her—but awareness of danger sharpened her perceptions enough that she realized exactly how she felt about it. "God, Kal-El," she gasped, pulling back for air, feeling utterly thunderstruck by what was going through her mind. Who the hell knew what would come in the next few hours, but she knew what she wanted now. God help her.

He looked at her, his eyes wild. Kryptonians weren't supposed to feel anything this intensely, but right now Kal-El didn't seem to give a damn. "Lois, I love you," he told her, his voice rough with emotion.

Time stopped. Her breath froze, and for a second Lois could only stare at him with wide hazel eyes. This hadn't been what she'd been sent here for, but it had happened nonetheless. She knew the truth in herself now, mixed-up and complicated and more than once denied to herself, trying not to think about it too much for fear of being forced to recognize something so dangerous. So completely insane, even for her. Still, there was only one thing she could say in reply, and she braced herself for the words that would change everything between them. "I … I love you, too, Kal-El," she whispered, and traced his cheek with her fingertips.

For a long moment he just looked at her, memorizing her face perhaps. Then Kal-El leaned in and kissed her again. Still slow and searching, but that note of sudden need was in it as well. Lois let her eyes slide closed and savored it. If there might not be a tomorrow for them, then she'd make damn sure there was a tonight worth remembering. Nothing else mattered.

Another kiss, and another, his hands tracing her shoulders, her arms, her sides. Lois had worn formal Kryptonian robes outside like she always did, with normal clothes underneath, and the extra layer of clothing insulated her from his touch. If they were going to do this, Lois wanted everything she could have of this moment, and yanked at the neck of the robe. It yielded beneath her frustration, and the silvery fabric slithered to the floor, pooling around her.

Now Kal-El's hands were on her bare forearms, and he sucked in a breath at that. "So warm," he murmured against her lips. Both nervous, more than a little frightened by the line they were crossing here, but neither wanting to stop. Lois felt feverish; she wanted his skin against hers, and his robes were in her way. Grumbling under her breath, she ran her hands up his sleeves from his wrists, tangled in the fabric but not caring.

He gasped, but didn't pull away, and his hands at her waist slid up her sides, gathering her shirt as he went. That tickled, her skin suddenly hyper-sensitive, and Lois shivered, stepping back as reality swam to the surface for a moment.

The main room felt too exposed, as if Zod's face could pop up on the holographic projector and catch them in the act. If they were going to do this, it wasn't going to be here. Without a word, Lois tugged at Kal-El's wrists and pulled him along with her, neither of them wanting to stop kissing and touching for more than an instant. That made their progress awkward and stumbling, but they made it to her room without tripping over each other's feet.

He hadn't been in the room since the bed was installed. At the moment he didn't even seem to notice where they were, too intent on kissing Lois' neck, exploring her long pale throat. She turned her head to give him access to the sensitive place at her nape, and shivered again when he kissed her there. God, we're actually going to do this. The fact that it was Kal-El doing this, Kal-El who had been so startled the first time she hugged him, that night that she had kissed him in gratitude, was enough to drive her crazy. Everything else in the real world was shut out as she concentrated on the two of them.

Lois tugged at the neck of his robes, baring his throat, and writhed away from his kisses long enough to plant a few of her own. Her mouth on his neck, her hands inside the robes against his warm bare skin, and it was just too perfect. He was far too easy to get lost in, this man who had done everything he possibly could to protect her from the day he met her. And she was all too determined to do just that.

Not at all like her first time, back home, curiosity getting the better of her and the whole backseat debacle just too disappointing to bother repeating. This, this was the kind of thing people wrote romance novels about, this was passion and daring and emotions that would not be denied.

Somehow Lois wound up backed against the bed and swearing under her breath as she fought her way out of her shirt, the damn thing caught over her head, and Kal-El laughing soft and sweet as he helped her out of it.

Then, ice on her skin. That damn crystal against the hollow of her throat. Both of them stopped completely, Lois all too aware of it, Kal-El staring at it. Suddenly aware, too, of being half-dressed in the room with him, both of them disheveled and wild-eyed, and where exactly did she think she was going with this?

Kal-El stared at the crystal necklace for a long, long moment, his dazed expression hardening into anger, then fury. "You are not _property_," he growled, and with one swift move snatched the necklace from her throat and flung it across the room.

Lois gasped at that, and then caught him by the back of the neck for a hard, greedy kiss. "Lois, my love," he breathed against her mouth.


	26. Narrowly Averting Collisions with Fate

Alura Zor-El watched the broadcast with a heavy heart and a growing sense of despair. She had been acquainted with Dru-Zod when the man was merely a general and a friend of her brother-in-law. He had always struck her as a very charming man, well-spoken and well-educated. Zor-El had never liked him, though. He once claimed, when he was exhausted enough to be loose-tongued, that behind Dru-Zod's blue eyes was not the mind of man but the gears of a machine. Alura had remembered that remark precisely because Zor-El had spoken thoughtlessly. It was a rare thing for any of them, but especially for him.

When the Science Council was overthrown and General Zod became Supreme Chancellor Zod, Alura had worried. If Zor-El was correct in his assessment, they had just allowed a dangerous individual to assume command of their people. On the other hand, she believed Jor-El when he said that the only way to save them was to evacuate Krypton-that-was. She had known him as long as she'd known her husband, and he was not rash and headstrong as some believed. If Jor-El said the explosion of the red sun Rao was imminent, then it was so.

Many did not believe him. It hadn't mattered at the time; Supreme Chancellor Zod was not interested in convincing the populace, only in commanding them. There had been only one serious attempt at revolt, which quickly ended when military personnel used lethal force. The entire populace of Krypton had been stunned into compliance that day.

The fact that Rao had indeed gone supernova after they evacuated the planet had convinced most Kryptonians that Dru-Zod was right. Suddenly no one mourned those lost in the revolt, and everyone claimed to have been in support of the Supreme Chancellor from the beginning.

Though her own husband had always been critical of the new regime, Alura had been certain he was not involved with the original revolt on Krypton-that-was. He had protested the overthrow of their planet's government, but he had never been implicated in the protest that turned violent. Now, though, she began to wonder. Zor-El was one of the most vocal dissidents on the planet, after all. Had he perhaps had a hand in that failed rebellion? And, worse, had he been involved in this new sabotage?

For herself, Alura would have thrown her support wholeheartedly behind a nascent revolution. The power the Supreme Chancellor wielded was too much for any one man, certainly too much for an ambitious military leader. She would gladly speak out as her husband did, but for one thing: Kara.

Kara was still only a child. She did not deserve to pay for her parents' transgressions. What would be her fate now, with this fresh revelation?

Alura sought out her husband, and though her expression seemed calm, she seethed inwardly with fear—and anger. It would be just like him to have been involved in this and never have told her, leaving her unprepared.

"Alura, my love," he said over his shoulder to her as she stepped into his workroom.

She took a deep breath before speaking. "Zor-El. Be honest with me. Were you involved in this sabotage?"

"Of course not," he replied, turning toward her at last. But the look in his eyes was faraway, the look of some ancient philosopher, not of the brilliant and vital man she'd married. It chilled her to the core of her soul.

"It matters not whether you were involved," she told him, her temper rising. "Supreme Chancellor Zod will suspect you anyway. You will be questioned."

"Of course I shall. I am one of the few with courage to speak against him, and he fears me. I assure you, Alura, I was not party to sabotage. Dru-Zod can track my movements and interrogate me as much as he wishes; it will not make his suspicions true."

Her answer came hotly. She loved him for his forthrightness and indeed, even his passion for those things he considered important, and yet at this moment those were the traits she most wished he could have suppressed. "No, it may not, but it will not stop him from imprisoning you regardless. And how shall I to explain that to our daughter when she asks where her father has gone?"

The strange calm in Zor-El's eyes never wavered. "If he imprisons me without an iota of evidence, then our people may finally see him for what he is: a madman. He is lost to avarice, ambition, and zealotry. He is using his position and manipulating the situation to achieve what he wants most: power. The sooner our people comprehend that, the better. If I must endure imprisonment for their blindness to be healed, then so be it."

Alura trembled with the force of competing emotions like asteroids tumbling around inside her chest. "And if he will not stop at imprisonment? What then, Zor-El?"

"Then I will pay any price to free us, even if I am banished to the Phantom Zone." He said it slowly and calmly, but she saw the glint of fear in his eyes. Eternal living death, imprisonment in a hell from which there was no escape, never to feel hunger or thirst—but never to age, never to escape even into true death.

Something in Alura snapped. "How could you do this to us?" she shouted, the first time in their life together that she had raised her voice. "I could understand perhaps if it were only me—I could stand with you, even—but Kara! How can you do this to Kara!"

"It is for Kara that I do this!" he thundered back. "I see my nephew growing up a trusting fool, I see his entire generation call Dru-Zod a savior! I will not have our daughter surrender her birthright and join them!"

He took two steps toward her and seized her shoulders; Alura barely noticed, caught up in his stormy gaze. "We were a great people, once, Alura. We were a shining beacon of civilization. Now we all cower before a black-clad general and his oh-so-loyal troops. We who prided ourselves on our erudition and the skills of our orators now fear to speak our minds in public. We who thought ourselves champions of liberty have traded it for safety, and in so doing have lost both. Worse, most of our people are not even aware of what we have lost! What would become of Kara, who never knew democracy? What of the generations to follow, who will remember only that the Science Council would have doomed us and the dictator Zod saved us? We will all be little better than slaves, Alura. My life would be small enough price to pay to wake our people from their slumber and stop this madman before it is too late."

"You truly believe he is mad," Alura whispered, chills running down her spine.

He looked down at her seriously. "Talk to Lara, if she will dare to speak of it. She can reference all of the recorded history of twenty-seven galaxies. She knows that only two sorts of men put themselves forward as sole rulers in a time of crisis: those who relinquish the burden of power as soon as they are able, and those who have no intention of ever releasing it. We both know Dru-Zod is not one of the former, for he remains in power. Earth and the humans were dreadfully convenient for him, were they not?"

"And so you mean to martyr yourself. That is what you have planned all along, to sacrifice a son of the House of El to this cause," Alura said. The air seemed heavier to her, and she wondered if she might be in clinical shock. For the moment she was wrapped in a strange, fatalistic calm, very similar to the way Zor-El had been when she first walked into the workroom.

"Yes, my love. If that is what is necessary to save our people, our daughter, then that is what I must do. My only regret will be that I must leave you and Kara to accomplish it, but you will both have better lives if I do this." Gently, softly, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

Alura closed her eyes. "Unless you are wrong, Zor-El. Unless Dru-Zod outwits you, or your martyrdom does not result in a coup. Then we shall be the widow and orphan of a traitor."

"You must renounce me, then, for your own sake," he told her.

A shudder ran through her at that thought. He had everything figured out, but … she couldn't help fearing for the future.

…

Kal-El woke slowly to the irritating chiming sound of an incoming holographic message. He felt strange and stiff; his body, accustomed to sleeping in the curve of a Kryptonian-style bed, was uncomfortable on this flat surface in spite of its softness.

Why was he asleep on a flat surface? He started to stretch, and heard a complaining whimper from beside him. Kal-El froze, only his eyes moving. Yes, there was Lois Lane, and they were both completely nude. _That actually happened._

There had been awkward moments last night—neither of them had been completely sure of what they were doing—but also moments of pleasurable yearning so keen they transcended his ability to describe. And at the end, a starburst of ecstasy like nothing he could ever have dreamed. After, they had lain in each other's arms, exhausted and struck silent by wonder.

He had felt not an iota of shame. The human way of doing things was not primitive or disgusting. It was … primal, certainly, and far more intense than any emotion a proper Kryptonian should feel. But it was not _wrong_. He knew that by the warmth of trust in Lois' eyes. Anything that could bring two people together in such perfect harmony was never wrong.

She still slept, and the chiming continued. Kal-El made his way out of bed, gathering up his robes and tugging them over his head. On his way to the door, he stepped on something that made him flinch and stagger back, his foot aching.

It was Lois' crystal necklace. Kal-El picked it up and tucked it away in his sleeve. Eventually he would have to put it back on her; little as he liked doing so, he couldn't yet allow others to learn of his new conviction.

_She is not property. Her people are not inferior to ours. Keeping them here against their will is a monstrous evil, one which every decent Kryptonian must abhor. One which I who love her must loathe with every fiber of my being. I will not be able to rest easily again until Lois has the choice to stay with me or to return home,_ Kal-El thought as he padded into the main room, setting the door to remain open so he could get back in after he took this call.

A terrible shock awaited him there. The image on his holographic screen was a black-clad Consular. _Already?_ Even as he thought it, he was grateful that his furniture hid the fact that he was barefoot. Such an irregularity would lead to all manner of unwanted questions. "May I be of service, Consular?" he asked politely.

The man narrowed his eyes and glared. "Where is your human, Kal-El?"

"In her room," he replied, his heart thudding. The necklace, the _damned_ necklace, of course they conducted random tests of the crystal tracking system. And hers had been off for several hours. Everything was about to come crashing down much sooner than even he had anticipated, and all he could do was try to come up with a desperate lie that might save one of them….

"Are you certain?" the Consular barked, but before Kal-El could stammer an answer the image wavered as the man turned away, toward someone else in the room. His expression became less threatening, and when he spoke again his voice was bored. "Ah, I see. We are showing the tracking crystal is back in place and that the human is in your home as she should be. Twenty minutes ago the scan showed the crystal was disconnected. Had you noticed any malfunction?"

"No, sir," Kal-El said, thinking quickly. They'd only missed one random scan—no one knew the necklace had been off overnight, only that it was off moments ago. "I do understand the anomaly, sir. You see, Lois Lane has long, curly hair. It became tangled in the necklace, and I briefly removed it to alleviate her discomfort."

The Consular gave him a look that clearly doubted his intelligence. "Very well. In the future, scion of the House of El, I strongly suggest that you warn the Bureau of Human Affairs before removing the necklace. _For any reason_. Especially after such news as we had yesterday."

"Of course, sir. It was foolish of me. Thank you for the reminder." The screen went blank, and Kal-El sagged. He barely managed to make it to the couch before his knees gave out.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Last night, removing the necklace had made perfect sense; he could not bear to see it on her. She was _not_ property, not a slave; she was the woman he loved. That was still true in the face of fear and tribulation. In the morning light he knew himself for a romantic simpleton. Taking the tracking crystal off had been an immense risk, and it was only luck that had saved him from landing in worse trouble.

Trouble could still be headed their way. Kal-El knew he would have to be both careful and lucky to avoid further suspicion from the Consulars, and he could not rely on luck. Last night, when he'd heard the Supreme Chancellor's announcement, he had been filled with despair. This morning, he felt only hope and determination. He _would_ somehow get through this. For Lois.

And for the moment, he had to wake her. She would want to know about the Consular's call. When Kal-El stood up again, the crystal necklace slid down in his sleeve, and he automatically caught it. An epiphany burst upon him.

The Consular had said the tracking crystal's reading was back online. That meant it was active and broadcasting while he was holding it. Kal-El knew the crystal required a bioelectric field to operate, but he hadn't yet realized that that signal didn't have to be human. He could wear the crystal, Lois wouldn't have to—but no. If she was seen without it there would be more trouble. Still, it was worth remembering that he could activate the signal, and the Consulars had no way of telling the difference.

Kal-El padded back into the bedroom, where Lois was burrowed into her pillow. Gently he stroked her tousled hair off her face, and bent to kiss her forehead. "Lois, my love," he murmured. "Wake up. I have much to tell you."

She grumbled softly and clutched the pillow more tightly. Kal-El had to keep stroking her hair and speaking softly to her for several more minutes before her eyes finally blinked open. At first she looked at him in utter bewilderment, and then understanding lit up in those hazel eyes, followed by a blush that made her face turn an adorable shade of pink.

Lois smiled shyly at him, laughing a little, though he couldn't tell if it was at him or at her own embarrassment. "Oh … _oh_, wow. Um … good morning?" she said hesitantly, biting her lip.

"Good morning," he replied warmly. And in spite of the unpleasant surprise he'd already had, it _was_ a good morning, because she was here.

* * *

**Okay, now no fussing over certain things that might be missing. With the scary going on here on the site about certain topics, we made an executive decision to not add to a scene that had been begun to be shown last chapter. However, that doesn't mean we don't have something in the cards for later. ;)**


	27. Secrets Within Dimly Lit Shadows

Lois lay awake, her bedroom lit by the bioluminescent lily Lara had given her for her birthday months ago. The circulating air was just enough to keep the flower glowing, her intent gaze ceaselessly tracing the endless refractions of blue, green, and red firelight it sparked within the crystals. She should have been out like a light an hour ago, but endless potential disasters were running through her mind. Too many wolves at the door and she was feeling so much like a bleating lamb. That, more than anything, was making her uneasy in the extreme. So much was hanging in the balance right now that she almost didn't dare close her eyes for fear of what she'd wake to. Besides, she was learning how to get by on very little sleep.

They'd learned so much since the Affair of the Necklace. For example, it turned out that the crystals didn't work exactly the way everyone thought they did. Henri had cornered Lois, having seen the message from the Bureau of Human Affairs about her necklace being off. They had noted it as a potential concern with other humans. By then she'd already spoken to Kal-El, and the lie she told her co-conspirator matched the one on official record. He'd just taken the necklace off to untangle her hair. That was all.

Never mind that the necklace had been off for several hours, and her hair had been _thoroughly_ tousled by the end of it. She felt herself flush a little at that, stirring up the memories of that night for something like the two-millionth-and second time. Kal-El loved her hair, loved burying his hands in it, loved pressing his face against her neck and breathing the scent of it. Too bad they couldn't tell them why, she thought with a smirk. The answer would have been easy enough back home.

According to the messages Henri had originally intercepted, the information they'd had for weeks, there should have been an immediate alert when the tracking crystal was removed, which would have been _horrible_ timing for her and Kal-El. And really, she should've thought of that when he tore the necklace off her, but her mind had been burned blank by the blue fire of his eyes. Nothing had been left of warnings, of her mission, of all the things she had to fear. At that moment there'd only been the two of them.

Meeting with her co-conspirators, Lois had been caught in a quandary. She couldn't tell the Resistance that the necklace had been off for several hours without explaining why—and she wasn't about to admit to sleeping with someone they would surely consider the enemy. All of them had been so upset about the opal earrings; but then, maybe they'd been right to worry. Unconsciously, she reached up and ran the fingertips of one hand over the smooth surface of the cool stone. She'd taken to wearing them around more often when she was between these four walls, a fact that earned her a fond smile any time Kal-El noticed them. Maybe even then they'd seen something she hadn't. And if they'd seen it then, how long before they realized things had changed now?

She _did_ have to tell them what Kal-El had told her: that the tracking signal came back online when he was holding the necklace. That had rocked Henri back on his heels, his eyes going wide with amazement. "Do you know what that means?" he'd whispered.

Of course she did. "They're not keyed to a specific human, or even to humans in general," she'd replied. "One person could wear someone else's necklace, and the Bureau of Human Affairs might never know."

"This could be momentous. I've got to do some research," Henri had muttered before hurrying off. She had made her way back, her mind full of plots, and had practically fallen into Kal-El's arms. He worried more about her when she ventured out alone, since the sabotage, and always met her at the door to hold her close. As always, she kept everything veiled from him except her happiness at being safely home again. But, increasingly, it was more and more of a struggle to hold back.

Lois' next contact a day later had been Huang. "You are a fountain of revelations," he'd told her.

She hadn't liked that, or the sly look he gave her. _Play innocent, none of them can ever guess or it all goes to hell,_ she'd told herself. "What did Henri dig up?" she'd asked instead.

"The Kryptonians changed how they operate the tracking signal on the crystals," he'd told her. "Atmospheric conditions related to the current sunspot cycle meant that they received so many false reports of disconnection, they gave up on that system. Now they conduct random sweeps of all the tracking crystals several times per day. If the tally isn't correct, they look into whichever crystal is missing."

"Which means, if we're careful and if we can figure out how to get these off, we might be able to swap necklaces or even have one person go off-grid entirely while someone else carries their crystal."

Huang nodded. "Precisely, though we would have to be extremely careful. If we happened to remove crystals while they were conducting a sweep, we'd be in trouble. Henri is trying to see if there's any sort of pattern; I'm sure you know 'randomized' situations are often anything but."

"Oh yeah," Lois had muttered. For a moment she flashed back to her real life back home, to randomized multiple choice tests that were mostly B and C answers. She should've been there, and her biggest worry should've been a history pop quiz. Not espionage and betrayal. Not all the _other_ things she was worrying about, too. Lois was only seventeen, just a kid still by most people's standards, and yet here she was living a double life with the freedom of her entire race hanging in the balance.

While her mind wandered, Huang had smiled at her. "And to think, we might never have known about this if not for your hair."

Yet again the circumstances of that discovery rocketed back into her head and she didn't even want to consider the willpower it had taken to neither flush nor blanche. She hadn't had an answer for that, nothing she could come up with would sound remotely convincing at a moment like this, and luckily they'd crossed paths with some Kryptonians, which forced them to make innocuous small talk for a few moments. Lois was getting heartily sick of gardening-talk and weather-speculation.

Once the others were gone, Huang returned to a different tack. "Everything we've heard seems to suggest the Consulars don't suspect us at all. All of their efforts are concentrated on finding Kryptonian traitors. Not a whisper of suspicion that humans would be capable of sabotage."

Lois had nodded, even though it made her chest tight. How long before Kal-El was a suspect? How long before the entire Benevolent Society he was so proud of fell under bureaucratic mistrust? She had the miserable feeling that her divided loyalties were going to cause her a lot of grief.

And then Huang had only increased her burden by adding, "Of course, it may simply be that any discussion of human culpability is not being shared with any Kryptonian who has a human guest, for fear of interception. Not to mention the fact that almost all of the hosts are now members of your Kal-El's club."

That brought Lois' chin up with a sudden jerk. Taking caution was one thing; it wasn't the first time any of the others had used the phrasing. Best to nip this in the bud before anyone caught on. "For God's sake. Listen, Huang, he's not _my_ Kal-El, and it's not his club, either," Lois had retorted, a little too quickly.

Huang had raised both hands, looking startled. "At ease, Lois. I meant nothing by it. Though if there's something you need to discuss…."

Lois felt like kicking herself. Overdid it by snapping that hard. Shit. What the hell was it with her lately? In the end, she'd made herself sigh and smile wanly. "No, it's just … ever since that deal with everyone jumping on me about the stupid earrings, I've been a little tense. It's nothing, really. It's just driving me up a wall."

For a long moment, Huang had been quiet. "It's rather strange, isn't it? The ones we see on a daily basis, they seem to genuinely like and care about us. Their ways of expressing it are foreign, but the … fondness, for lack of a better word, comes through. Sometimes Jhan-Or talks to me like a friend. Or a son, almost. And yet they are the ones who would be in trouble if any of us did escape, which gives them a powerful, personal incentive to keep us safely captive."

"Yeah," Lois had murmured. Even with her father's words of warning echoing in her mind, she found that she had come to trust Kal-El with her mind, with her body, even with her ever-wary heart … with everything except the fact that she was part of the Resistance. At that moment, she'd realized for the first time that if the Resistance managed to accomplish their goals, Kal-El—and his parents, too, most likely—would be in a world of trouble. He might even be accused of treason.

Thinking back on it from the safety of her bedroom, a tiny voice in Lois' head whispered, _He once said he would love to see Earth. Bring him with you. He'll be safer there—and you don't want to leave him, anyway. Not anymore._ That was all true, but it wouldn't work out the way she wanted, and Lois knew it. She could just imagine Kal-El's reaction if she ever came to him and said, 'Hey, so I've been keeping a secret from you practically since we met. I'm part of the group fighting against your people, and we're about to make a break for it. Wanna come with me so you can really understand what it's like to be an alien on someone else's world? Hey, the fact that we'd both know exactly how it feels to be constantly viewed with suspicion and distrust would be a great bonding experience!' Sure, he'd be delighted about that. Especially in light of the new twist to their relationship.

That had her chewing her lower lip again before she sighed out a held breath quietly. She had to be quiet; Kal-El was asleep beside her. Going to bed with him hadn't been a one-time fluke, and they'd been sleeping together pretty much constantly since then. Once the door closed behind them and her lips met his, everything else went away for a while. In his arms, she wasn't Lois the hostage or Lois the spy or even Lois the General's daughter, she was just … Lois. And being able to be only herself with him was the thing she cherished most in her life. Here, so far away from everything she knew and everyone she loved, he was home.

It wasn't just sex, or even mostly sex. Though they were lovers, and over the past few weeks their lovemaking had become less tentative and more satisfying for them both. There was no shyness left in either of them anymore, no uncertainty. He was a tender, considerate lover, but he wanted much more from her than just that. The sex was just part of the physical and emotional intimacy between them, and that close bond was the only thing in her world that felt _right _anymore.

Even though she didn't know just when she'd fallen in love with him. There was no point she could turn to and say, _That was when it happened._ Unless … she didn't want to think it, but it might've been the moment they met. When she'd looked up at him, all wary defiance, and he had smiled to see her. He had been the first person who'd been happy to see her since she'd made the decision to come here. Lois couldn't deny that that had affected her; he'd given a glimmer of hope, however brief it had been.

She couldn't figure out precisely when or how she'd decided to go to bed with him, either. The first time had been a collision of anxieties and the craving for something, anything, that couldn't be taken away. Lois could look back on it now and chuckle; they'd both been such _kids_, silly as that was to say a few weeks later. It was true, though. That first time had been equal parts laughter, embarrassment, curiosity, inexperience, exploration, and absolute trembling desire.

After that … well, if it had been just once, that would've meant both of them considered it a mistake. And in spite of the fact that Lois knew she was playing with fire, that getting romantically and _physically_ involved with a Kryptonian was a hugely bad idea, she couldn't quite make herself believe it was a _mistake_. During those moments together, she'd forgotten all her fears, forgotten her loneliness, forgotten everything but him telling her in a harsh whisper that he loved her. No wonder they'd gone back to her room by unspoken agreement the next night, and now slept there together every night. She'd tried, once, to convince herself this was just for information, tried to cast herself as Mata Hari, but it didn't fit. She was finding that her traitor heart was telling her that it was because she was coming to love him too much.

Now that that last taboo had been broken, Kal-El wanted to be as close to her as possible, as often as he could. He craved touch like it was some kind of addiction, like he was an alcoholic who'd been sober for years and just fallen spectacularly off the wagon and into an unlocked liquor store. It was a good analogy, too, since half the time he seemed almost drunk, dizzy with delight at touching her. They'd reached the point where he tended to cross his arms behind his back when they were in public, just to keep from taking her hand. They weren't fools, however; there were no precautions on Krypton, but they had little to be anxious of: they were different species, any chance of interbreeding virtually impossible.

Meanwhile Lois found it incredibly comforting just to cuddle with him. She knew him so well now, knew the way the rhythm of his breathing changed as he slipped over into sleep, knew the feel of his lips against her shoulder or her neck, the warm weight of his arm around her waist. She even knew how the contrary little curl in his forelock felt wrapped around her fingers.

When they lay together, Lois could almost disappear with his larger frame curled around her. She fit neatly against him, her head tucked under his chin, the small of her back against his belly. Sometimes lately, disappearing was all she wanted. He was the safety blanket she could pull over herself when the world felt full of monsters.

Kal-El probably felt much the same about her. They could spend hours burrowed into her bed. They talked desultorily, or simply lay snuggled together, his breath warm against her skin, her fingers interlaced with his. Those moments were a welcome respite from everything else; it felt as though her bedroom was their private retreat, where nothing could intrude on their happiness.

And yet, Lois knew that wasn't precisely true. This was the most fragile of shelters. Though the Consulars hadn't moved on either the humans or the House of El, there were no guarantees whatsoever that they wouldn't do so. Everything could come to an end at any moment. Still, the illusion of safety in his arms was a refuge from the surety of doubt and fear that awaited her anywhere—everywhere—else.

In his sleep, Kal-El rolled over and slid his arm around her waist with a happy sigh. Lois smiled wanly and caught his hand, bringing it to her lips for a kiss. That woke him, and he nuzzled her hair. "Lois, my love," Kal-El sighed.

"Morning, you," she murmured, leaning back against him.

For long moments, they were both silent, Kal-El gently playing with her fingers. He stroked the back of her hand, she laced their fingers together, and he rubbed his thumb in slow circles over her palm. Finally he said, "I can hear you thinking, Lois. What's on your mind?"

After all of the months of listening to her casual Earth slang, he could almost pass for a native speaker when they were alone. Another reason of her comfort in his presence. "Hear me thinking? Since when are Kryptonians telepathic?" She tried to keep her tone light, but couldn't help a tiny sliver of fear. If anyone on this planet _could_ read her thoughts, she'd be in for a world of trouble. Several worlds of trouble. Possibly solar systems—no, _universes_ of trouble. But Kryptonians weren't telepathic, or the Resistance would already be arrested. Now she was just being paranoid.

Kal-El seemed to share that interpretation, running a soothing hand along her side. "You know I can't _really_ hear you thinking. I just know you, Lois. I know when you're happy, and when you're not. I know when you have a lot on your mind. You can tell me, you know." He trailed kisses along her shoulder. "You can trust me."

"I know. I … it's me I don't know if I can trust," Lois admitted. He held her closer at that, as if his strength and warmth could somehow transfer to her.

"Tell me, Lois." Such simple words, so softly spoken, but with them her throat tightened on admissions that couldn't have been wrung from her by torture. Oh, how she wanted to just tell him everything, everything. The Resistance, her fears, the sabotage plans … the fact that she couldn't even look forward to her freedom anymore, because it would mean leaving him.

"I … Kal-El, I'm scared." That much she could safely say, as much as it was bitterest gall to admit out loud. However, it didn't make it any less true.

Silently, his arms tightened around her to squeeze reassuringly. "I will protect you, Lois, with every means at my disposal."

"I know," she whispered back. But what, exactly, could he do? The Consulars were the only people on the planet who were armed. If they came for her, how could Kal-El possibly defend her? How could _any_ of them defend themselves? At best he could pull the necklace off and let her run, but where would she go?

"It will not always be like this," he told her then, and the hair stood up on the nape of her neck. There was new tension in his body, new conviction in his tone, new strength in the hand holding hers. That sounded … a lot like a promise.

"Kal-El, what…" she trailed off, then rolled onto her back to look up at him. "What do you mean?"

The look in his eyes could've come from her reflection. He _knew_ something, something important … and he wasn't going to tell her. Lois wondered what his secrets were, and for a moment even wondered if the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion wasn't more than it seemed. If there was a faction of Kryptonians who abhorred the captivity of humans—and who were more subtle than Zor-El—where else would she expect to find them than in a group dedicated to helping the humans 'adjust'? What better façade to hide behind?

She knew that look of his; she'd worn it often enough. No answers were forthcoming. Instead he stroked her cheek and murmured, "Nothing is concrete yet. But I promise you this, Lois. I will someday see you free—free from fear, and _free_—no matter what it takes. I … I cannot bear to see you so haunted." With that he kissed her, and her speculation on whatever else he might've been thinking was lost. Kal-El was already getting very good at distracting her.


	28. Debating Against the Voices of Reason

**Sorry it's late, guys, but EVERYTHING other than the actual birthday weekend itself has slid slowly sideways. Just not good. I can't even get into it. Just bad. *grits teeth* But yeah, here it is and I hope it was worth the wait. :D**

* * *

Lois wouldn't have chosen to broach her idea—really just the germ of an idea, at that point—to Geoffrey if she could help it. Of all the Resistance members, he was the oldest and most conservative, almost to the point of being stodgy. But she needed to talk it over with _someone_, and she couldn't reach Henri or Huang easily at the moment.

Everyone was being more cautious with their humans since the sabotage. Henri's reports said that the Supreme Chancellor was plainly furious, but no arrests had been made, and no suspects were officially named. Lois knew from Kal-El that Zor-El was an unofficial suspect. His wife, Alura, had publicly quarreled with him—most likely a staged event to ensure that her loyalty wasn't questioned. What Kryptonians considered an argument wasn't even a disagreement by human standards; there had been no raised voices, no accusations, merely a formal debate. It was still hot gossip among the Kryptonians, though. And it had thoroughly depressed Kal-El, whether the discord was true or a ruse.

That was another reason for discussing this, little as she wanted to do it. Lois knew she couldn't wait to get hold of one of the others, so she talked to Geoffrey anyway, knowing the reception she'd likely get. Still, maybe it was best this way. If she could overcome all of Geoffrey's objections, convincing the rest would be easy by comparison. But only by comparison.

They managed to lose themselves in the public gardens, now even less frequented by Kryptonians than before. Geoffrey sat down and patted the bench beside him. "Come now, Lois. You're about to boil over with something—news or a question, I can't tell which. Out with it."

Chagrined, she sat down. She hadn't known she was quite that transparent. "Well, something _has_ been on my mind lately. But you won't like it."

"Lois, my dear, I like precious little about this situation we find ourselves in," Geoffrey chuckled.

She took a deep breath. "I have reason to believe that there's more than one faction among the Kryptonians who might want to help the Resistance. And I think we should give that due consideration, in light of possibly forming an alliance."

By the look on Geoffrey's face, he thought she'd gone completely mad. "Right. So, Lois, let's start at the beginning. Tell me about these factions."

"For the record, Geoffrey, I'm not losing my mind," Lois said, forcing her voice level. It wouldn't do any good to snap at his tone, which bordered on patronizing to her ears. "Please remember that I'm closer to Kal-El than any other human is to any other Kryptonian, that he's connected, and that he tells me just about anything."

"Oh, I remember that. I also remember that while you may never doubt his information or his intentions, it's my duty to question everything. If your information comes from him, I have to consider his motive in revealing it."

For an instant, Lois considered replying with the stark truth. _His motive these days is generally pillow talk._ But no, she could never say that, the Resistance would consider her compromised—and Kal-El would no longer be her escape from the world if the rest of the world knew about them.

Instead, she sighed. "Understood. Anyway, we know for a fact there's a group of Kryptonians who oppose Zod. They're the ones who sabotaged the construction of the military's new ships."

Geoffrey nodded. "Right. So what makes you think they'd be sympathetic to our situation?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure who one of them is, and he's either the ringleader or highly placed. Kal-El's uncle, Zor-El. And he's made his stance on humans very clear: we don't belong here. I think he'd gladly send us home if only to get us off his planet." Lois shrugged. "Now, I know his group is dangerous, because they're under suspicion right now. Supreme Chancellor Zod has to know he's mixed up in this somehow. But it's worth at least keeping an eye on them. If they _do_ manage a coup, the Resistance could make ourselves known and help them get us out of here."

"I'll agree with you there," Geoffrey said. "Zor-El does seem the obvious suspect, but I've heard nothing from Henri about him being under investigation. Then again, considering how close his brother is to the Supreme Chancellor, perhaps the investigation is taking place via unofficial channels."

Lois bit her lip. "That, and while we have an ear in the Bureau of Human Affairs, we've got nothing on the Consulars. None of our people have a host that's associated with them. They seem pretty clannish, to me. All that wearing black even when they're not in uniform."

"That's because they're never really out of uniform. Working or not, a Consular is always a Consular." Geoffrey's eyes looked shadowed by that, but he shook it off. "Make no mistake, Lois. The Consulars might have started out as military police, but right now they're Dru-Zod's personal army. From what we've gathered, the woman running the Consulars is frighteningly loyal. Essentially she's a fanatic, and the rest aren't far behind in terms of devotion. They do not obey the law or the office, they only obey the man they still call _General_ Zod."

A shiver ran down her spine. Her father had very definite opinions on military service and politicians—he tended not to respect any of them who'd never served, or who had used political connections to get desk duty during a major conflict. But he was also adamant that active military leaders should _not_ run the country. In one of his rare talkative moods, he'd told her why once, when she'd sarcastically suggested that he'd complain less if his superior just took over the President's job. _Military people see things differently than civilians. You know that—you see how much trouble you have running with civvie kids. They don't get us, we don't get them. It's worse among leaders. There's no democracy in the armed forces, after all. The kinds of things we see, the responsibility we hold, the absolute authority we wield, the decisions we have to make, it's all good background for a president, hell, for __**anyone**__, but it's better if there's a cool-down period between military service and political service. We need time to remember how the people we're protecting live, how to be one of them again, so we can represent them properly._

The thought that the Supreme Chancellor was still addressed by his military title—and worse, he had an armed force that was completely loyal to him, not his title—spooked her. No wonder everyone on New Krypton was so nervous. The situation was a powder keg waiting to explode.

Geoffrey interrupted her musing. "You said more than one group."

"Yeah, and the other one is the group I think we might want to consider approaching." Lois hated herself for phrasing it in such a wishy-washy way, but she had to make sure she didn't sound too certain. That would earn her even more questions.

"And who are they?" Geoffrey asked.

Taking another deep breath, Lois plunged in. "The Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion. I have reason to believe they're a front for human sympathizers, basically."

Geoffrey simply nodded thoughtfully. "Mm-hmm. That interpretation had occurred to some of us, too. Would you mind telling me why you thought so?"

A spark of hope rose in Lois' chest. Maybe Geoffrey wasn't going to outright veto her. Even better, maybe there was more intel out there, more concrete evidence that Kal-El's group could actually be the allies they needed. "Mostly Kal-El. He and Jhan-Or have been the most progressive of the Kryptonians with how they treat us. I was there when they decided to just let us wander around on our own. And certain things Kal-El has said recently seem to be hinting at a larger purpose for the society. Maybe not even all of them know it, but he's sounding like he's on our side."

Geoffrey looked at her for a long moment. "What things, specifically?"

_Now_ she had to be careful. "Well, he … he said he would see me freed, no matter what it takes. That sounds an _awful_ lot like the B.S.K.C.E. is fronting for an abolitionist group. I mean, they've got all the humans assigned to their members, now."

"That's one way of looking at it," Geoffrey said delicately. "Lois … was it you singular or plural?

She cocked her head in confusion, and he elaborated. "Did Kal-El say he would see _you_ free, or all the humans?"

Her blush was all the answer he needed. Geoffrey patted her hand gently. "Listen, Lois…."

Lois yanked her hand back, scowling. That patronizing tone was the last thing she needed to hear. "Don't you 'listen, Lois' _me_. I know how it sounds, but I know _him_. If he's talking about setting me free, he's talking about_ all_ of us. That's just who he is."

Geoffrey looked pained. "Lois, it's natural to think well of him. All of us are now in situations where our hosts treat us kindly and try to make our lives as pleasant as possible. That does not make them any less our jailers. In the event of a human uprising, they would be the _first_ suspects, and therefore they are the _last_ people we should trust."

"Kal-El's not that selfish," she insisted.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Geoffrey sighed. "Kal-El is young, Lois. And probably just a little enamored of you. Young men promise the world, but they rarely deliver. Trust me, he may _want_ to free you, and the rest of us, but I doubt he has the wherewithal to accomplish it."

She bit her tongue. He was more than a _little_ enamored of her; the l-word had been exchanged more than once, and not just in bed. And there it was again, the teensy little insignificant fact that they were lovers—_lovers_, she was quite literally sleeping with the enemy—which she would never reveal to Geoffrey or anyone else in the Resistance. Ever. Her credibility with them would be shot to hell if she did.

Geoffrey spent some more time reassuring her, but Lois let it drift in one ear and out the other. He didn't know—or need to know—that she'd already sent her father a coded letter.

…

General Samuel Lane was also known as Bulldog Lane, with good reason. One of his highly-educated and experienced military advisors was presently discovering that fact, much to her chagrin. "General Lane," she began.

He cut her off. "Now look here, Colonel Matthews. We sent the best personnel we could into this charlie foxtrot. The least we can do is trust their assessment."

"With all due respect, sir, the person to whom we're referring is your sixteen-year-old daughter, who is neither a trained intelligence officer nor enlisted military personnel," the colonel replied. She sat across from him, hands neatly folded on the edge of the desk, military precision in everything from the perfect creases of her uniform to her evenly-spaced braids.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Lois has been sneaking into and out of restricted areas, ferreting out classified information, and dodging armed patrols since she was ten, Colonel, so I'll match her against of your spooks any day. As for enlisted personnel, she grew up on base, under my watch, surrounded by soldiers. For all intents and purposes, she's been in the armed forces for all seventeen of those years. Almost makes her a lifer."

Her dark brows rose ever so slightly. Then again, it was hard to get even that much of a rise out of someone from INSCOM. "Sir, there is a vast difference between an enlisted soldier and the child of a ranking officer."

"Not this officer's child," Sam told her stoutly. "You've never met my Lois, Colonel Matthews. She's not some silly little girl. We're talking about someone who's been behind enemy lines for months, and she's not only actively working with their side of the Resistance, she also has contacts to several key members of the opposition."

"I don't deny that what she's achieved is remarkable. What concerns me, sir, is that you're willing to risk so much on her _hunch_ that some of these Kryptonians might be amenable." Eyes dark as mess hall coffee met his blue ones unflinchingly.

Sam had to admire this young woman. She didn't rattle, and as long as she thought she was doing what was best for the mission, she wouldn't hesitate to go toe-to-toe with someone who outranked her as much as he did. He allowed himself a small smile. "Colonel, I've seen your record. You've been under fire in Qurac. You know there are times when a hunch is the only thing saving your life—and the life of the soldier beside you."

She nodded, conceding that. Colonel Matthews was a decorated officer, and she didn't get that way hiding behind a desk somewhere.

Sam leaned forward. "I'm not suggesting we should offer these aliens any military secrets. What I'm suggesting is that we allow Lois to approach the most likely faction. In her own time, mind you. She'll know the right moment to suggest an alliance. And you know we're going to need a more concrete agreement, eventually. What we have going on with the black market is useful, but if we're aiming to smuggle our people out of there, we're going to need a whole lot more cooperation."

"Sir, I'll level with you," Colonel Matthews offered. "I am extremely uneasy about trusting these Kryptonians. They are an entirely different _species_. It's not simply a matter of cultural divide, sir, they come from another _solar system_. I doubt anyone's ability to accurately predict them. Taking them into confidence is going to be extremely dangerous."

"Colonel, I don't like it any more than you do. Hell, the thought of negotiating with them makes dealing with the Chinese and the Russians and the whole Middle East seem like a cakewalk. But that's exactly what we're doing now, isn't it? Lois' contacts over there are exactly the people we _wouldn't_ deal with in any other situation. Now they're our allies. And maybe we have a few more allies than we suspected."

The younger officer seemed to waver. Sam leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Trust my daughter, Colonel. She's a damn good judge of character, and she's a soldier in everything way that matters. She won't forget who she is or what's at stake."

…

At that moment, though, Lois was determinedly and deliberately blocking out everything else. Geoffrey telling her not to trust any Kryptonian, the _look_ she'd gotten from Henri when they passed each other the next day, the sense of impending doom that hovered over her day and night. All the secrets, Kal-El's and the Resistance's and her own. It was enough to make her scream.

Even Huang had gotten in on it, sending her a note that simply read, "Be careful." As if she could.

All of them were watching her now—suggesting they ally themselves with Kryptonians had brought even more suspicion than she expected. The sensible thing to do would be to lie low, be careful, cool things off with Kal-El at least a little. Let it all blow over until the rest of the Resistance got used to the idea of working with the Benevolent Society. God, why didn't any of them get it? How was it that she was the only one to see the potential of what she had proposed?

So at the moment, Lois wasn't being sensible or careful. For now, she was just being herself, being selfish. She wasn't trying to be a soldier or a spy. She wasn't thinking about plots or secrets—or anything that was further in the future or more complicated than getting Kal-El out of his damned Kryptonian robes.

He laughed, his voice low and warm. "I take it you missed me today?"

"You could say that," she murmured, stopping his words for a moment by kissing him. "I hate it when you're gone all day. All I can do is hang around and think."

Kal-El drew back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. "Lois. I would not be gone if I did not have to be."

"I know that. Doesn't mean I have to like it." She could feel another frown starting up, so she buried her complaints against his lips instead. That always worked; being able to kiss him was still novel enough that Lois felt confident it could distract Kal-El from everything short of a nuclear explosion. And it distracted her pretty effectively, too.

"I miss you, too, you know," he murmured against her lips.

Lois smiled at that, and let her tongue flirt with his at the next kiss. Kal-El's hands smoothed down her sides, shoulders to hips, like he was framing her body with his touch. She pressed herself closer to him; even though they were still half-dressed atop her bed, any distance between them was too much.

Somewhere in the back of her brain, she could hear voices telling her not to do this, not to trust him, especially not to love him. Her father as well as the other members of the Resistance, even her own voice from earlier days. _You have a mission._ _He is the enemy. Don't forget that._ She forcefully ignored them all.

This wasn't just Lois' typical defiance. True, given an order she would generally do the opposite, especially to spite her father, but this mission was important. World-shatteringly important. And yet, for her, there was something so immediate and so powerful that it eclipsed the world entirely: love. Every time she saw Kal-El, her throat got tight and her heart raced. The attraction between them was magnetic, both of them turning toward each other even in sleep.

Attraction alone she could ignore. Lois had turned down plenty of handsome boys. But this … with Kal-El, every time she touched him, all the stress and fear and doubt simply vanished. If he was beside her, she felt safe, no matter what. And that sense of security was something she'd never really had before. His devotion to her was the rock she could brace against to keep everything else from overwhelming her.

Kal-El leaned into her, arms around her, nuzzling her throat. "By Rao, I love you," he breathed against her skin. And then he kissed slowly downward, lingering at the hollow between her collarbones and the curve of her belly.

Lois stretched and sighed, letting everything but him and now and this go. Here, in this room, nothing was confusing. Here there were no hard decisions. "Kal-El… God help me, I love you, too." Nothing else she'd said for months had been so true. The way he touched her, his hands and mouth, yes, but mostly his tender consideration, his honest delight, drove everything except bliss from her mind. She stroked her hands over his broad shoulders and gladly lost herself in him.


	29. Of Hidden Agendas and Revelation's Spark

Pretty exhausted this week, but still pushing forward. Starting to look up a tiny bit and I'll take every bit of it. Annnnd you guys even got a longer chapter, thanks to Anissa's muses! Enjoy!

* * *

Kal-El spent his days in a variety of activities. Research in his lab, often, as well as meetings of the Science Council, of which his father was a member and which he was therefore entitled to attend. Lately he had been sitting in as a silent observer on as many council meetings as he possibly could, trying to gather information. His attendance was taken as studiousness by his father's peers, and appreciated by Jor-El himself as a sign of maturity.

Jor-El did not appreciate his son's many meetings with Jhan-Or, however. Kal-El often found reasons to place himself in the biologist's company. They talked of many things, but the subject of the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion was always discussed carefully. Kal-El had learned not to question Jhan-Or too closely on certain topics, and the older man had been dropping elusive hints for a while.

Today was no exception. "And I thought we might consider forming a committee within the society," Kal-El was saying as the two men sat at their leisure in Jhan-Or's solarium. "It may be worthwhile to study how the humans have adapted so far to our planet. Perhaps several of our members with backgrounds in biology and sociology would find that interesting?"

"Perhaps they would," Jhan-Or said agreeably, but his eyes were distant.

Kal-El paused. For the past week or two, Jhan-Or had often seemed distracted, his attention wandering far afield. Of course any slightest hint that Kal-El had noticed that would bring his full acumen to bear, but the younger man still noticed him wavering. "Jhan-Or, it seems to me that you have much on your mind," Kal-El finally said. "The humans say that joy shared is joy doubled, and misery shared is misery halved. If you have some such news to share, for good or ill, then please remember that I am your friend."

Jhan-Or smiled at him. "And you are quite a good friend, to put up with this old man's scattered thoughts. Perhaps, though, it is time to share a few things with you."

Excitement flooded Kal-El's heart, but he controlled his reaction so that his face showed only pleasant interest. Over the past months—it was well nigh a year, as humans reckoned time—he had learned than any unseemly curiosity caused Jhan-Or to veil his thoughts. "I am listening," he said.

For a long moment, Jhan-Or simply looked at him, evaluating. "You have grown much wiser in a short time, Kal-El. Since the humans arrived, you have taken more and more responsibility upon yourself. You may not yet know this, but there are those on the Science Council who consider you our foremost authority upon them."

At that, Kal-El had to drop his gaze, feeling a faint tingle of embarrassed warmth across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He _had_ published several papers on human culture, language, and history, all dryly factual—he could have written far more expansively, but he was conscious of his audience. "I am hardly an authority," he demurred.

Jhan-Or chuckled. "True, you are far too young to have the proper perspective on an issue to which you are so committed, but you have demonstrated knowledge and the understanding to share it. And I know, Kal-El, where your conviction truly lies." He took a step nearer, and the humor left his voice and expression. Jhan-Or spoke sternly, with no hint of approval. "You would see them all freed, returned to their own planet. By any means necessary, including espionage or revolution, you would accomplish this goal."

Kal-El's breath stuttered to a halt. If he admitted this now, and Jhan-Or _didn't_ share his conviction, at the best he would be placing himself in a position to be blackmailed. At worst, he could be arrested almost immediately. The only question was whether he trusted Jhan-Or … and in spite of his father's warnings, he did. Kal-El took a deep breath. "Yes. That is _exactly_ what I propose to do."

Nodding, Jhan-Or looked him steadily in the eye. "Very well. You have proven yourself capable of discretion, Kal-El, and of courage enough to choose principle over safety—a thing our Council has forgotten how to do. For that I will share with you _my_ intentions, since we find ourselves making common cause."

The older man paused, studying Kal-El a moment longer. "My goal is quite simple. I mean to dethrone the General-turned-Chancellor and return our people to the democracy of our fathers. I am as dedicated to my dream as you are to yours, and removing the humans from our planet is an integral part of my vision. So let us be allies, Kal-El, and trust one another."

He'd suspected something like that, but never realized Jhan-Or was so fervent. This was _treason_ they were discussing … but wasn't it justified? The current system kept Dru-Zod as virtual dictator, with no checks upon his power but the Science Council, which was powerless against him. "I understand, and I will aid you," Kal-El said, his voice low but unwavering.

"I had hoped so. Now, to business." Jhan-Or waved him toward a seat, and a robot whirred up with something refreshing to drink. Jhan-Or took a sip before continuing. "Revolution is a difficult and dangerous business, Kal-El. We are fortunate that your uncle is making himself obvious—that will keep Dru-Zod's attention on him, and away from our efforts."

"Unless he brings suspicion on me by virtue of our family connection," Kal-El pointed out. That fact still worried him; he had sent messages to Zor-El, urging temperance, but they had gone unanswered.

"Your father will see to that," Jhan-Or replied confidently. "In the meantime, you may find it prudent to let your sadness at Zor-El's mental deterioration be known to a few close friends—preferably those most prone to sharing such news."

"There is nothing wrong with his mind," Kal-El said hotly. Implications of insanity were the single worst insult that could be made to a Kryptonian.

Amusement flickered in Jhan-Or's eyes. "Of course not. Zor-El is the sanest among us, but the least prudent. He expects no less than repudiation, Kal-El. His own wife has quarreled with him in public. Those who do not wish to join him in martyrdom must cast their lots firmly against him. Zor-El knows this. And it would not surprise me if he also knew that his actions serve to cloak those of who choose to act with more discretion."

"So you do have a plan of action," Kal-El said quietly, containing his excitement. At last, they might actually be _doing something_ about the problem that nagged at the back of his mind.

Jhan-Or smiled. "Of course not. I have _several_ plans. The first is, of course, ensuring non-interference from the humans. To secure that, we will need to return the hostages. Then once the Chancellor has been deposed, we can open trade talks with Earth, as we already have our equipment in place for mineral mining. The new regime will be seen in a positive light for having returned their sons and daughters even before making our move against Dru-Zod."

That gave Kal-El pause. To him, getting the humans home was top priority because keeping them captive here was morally repugnant and ethically indefensible. Jhan-Or's reasoning was more politically expedient, and he began to suspect that the older man was just as ruthless as Jor-El had warned. But for the moment he was willing to overlook that for the sake of the greater good. "And how shall we return them?"

The smile grew broader, a light in Jhan-Or's eyes that Kal-El had never seen before. "Have you researched the arrangements made for our miners on Earth?"

"I have," Kal-El replied. When Jhan-Or raised an eyebrow, he elaborated. "Most of the actual mining is done by robots, but a small maintenance crew of five people—selected geologists, engineers, and chemists—plus one Consular are housed on site to supervise the mining. We have facilities built for them that allow them all the comforts of home, and when they must exit the structures, their mechanized suits shield them from Earth's impure atmosphere."

"Correct. Also, the team is partially rotated with every fifth shipment, so that none of our people must remain isolated on Earth for too long, and yet each newcomer has an experienced crew to work with." Jhan-Or leaned back in his seat, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"I had heard that as well, yes," Kal-El replied, tilting his head. He didn't see the significance of the rotation or why it pleased Jhan-Or so much … and then he did, realization dawning slowly. "I am not the first person taken into your confidence, am I? There are others who know your intentions, and you have used your influence to place them on Earth."

"Indeed I have, and with the next shipment the crew on Earth will be entirely comprised of individuals sympathetic to the human cause for one reason or another, and will remain so for some time," Jhan-Or said. "We can do nothing about the Consulars—they can never be trusted, as many of them are _personally_ loyal to Dru-Zod—but they are not directly involved in the shipping process. Their arrogance is our advantage, as their disdain for the work itself makes it simpler to accomplish our goals without their knowledge."

Kal-El only had one question in mind. "How did you find so many sympathizers?"

Jhan-Or chucked. "Most of them are my former students. Or young idealists like yourself. I have been _extremely_ careful in sounding them out, and in selecting those not involved in the Benevolent Society. But we will need to move quickly once the final member of the team is in place. With the knowledge we've recently obtained on the function of the tracking crystals, we can begin moving the humans immediately upon the next exchange of personnel."

That brought a quick smile to Kal-El's face. _He_ had been the one to discover the tracking crystals didn't rely on a human biometric signal. And now, at long last, they were going to put that knowledge to use. "Do you think the Society will all agree to release their humans?" he asked.

"Most will. And those who do not will follow the rest. We have maneuvered the humans into the hands of those who see them as _people_, and allowed them time and liberty in which to demonstrate thoroughly that they are as sentient as we are. Everything we have done—much of it begun by you, Kal-El—has increased the hosts' empathy with their guests. The only ones who falter will be those afraid of being caught and punished, and a few courageous examples will shame them into action."

That made Kal-El smile again, until Jhan-Or added, "You would be an excellent choice to bolster their courage."

His heart dropped, his mouth going dry. Be among the first to volunteer, and send Lois away so soon? Of course this was the endgame of all his plans, the vow made in his secret heart when he had first fallen in love with her. But he had thought he would have more time with her.

For a moment his throat closed with emotion. When he trusted himself to speak, he said, "I will do that, if necessary. I would like a small favor in return, if possible."

"And what is that?" Jhan-Or asked.

"Perhaps I might be included among those who travel to Earth. I have long wished to study their culture in person." His voice was level, almost disinterested.

The older man watched him for a long, long moment, in utter silence. "I see. Kal-El, you are the son of an important Science Councilor, perhaps the last who has any sway whatsoever. Do you honestly think that, no matter what resources I can bring to bear, your father would allow you to go?"

He bowed his head. It was selfish, purely selfish, to want to keep Lois here or to go with her. Trying to make his way to Earth would only attract attention. "I understand. It will be difficult to part from her after all this time."

"It will be difficult for all of us. These humans … they are an amazing people. They have such inspiring vibrancy. I will certainly miss Huang. But I know that his family and friends already miss him, and he them, more than I do." Jhan-Or's voice was low and reassuring.

He didn't know how much more difficult this was for Kal-El. Lois was not merely a friend, she was his love. And yet the only honorable course of action was to let her go. Kal-El promised himself that, once everything settled down, he would find a way to get to Earth to see her. Surely New Krypton would need ambassadors. In the meantime, he would do what he knew was right, so as to be worthy of her.

And Jhan-Or was not finished yet. "As I mentioned, there are always multiple plans. It is always possible that our efforts could be discovered and disrupted, and that any one of us could be captured. For that reason I do not share more than is necessary, and have provided each of our sympathizers with false leads in case they are captured."

"Red herrings," Kal-El said musingly. "The humans call such misleading information a 'red herring'. And you would provide me with one such as well?"

"Of course," Jhan-Or said. He motioned for one of his robots, which brought him a small crystal. "Embedded on this crystal are some of your father's preliminary designs for transport ships. If you are captured, try to keep them from finding this. They will, of course, but if it seems hidden the Consulars will believe we are trying to build _ships_. I will also provide a believable quantity of salt to enhance the illusion."

"Salt? But the price of salt and the military restrictions…" Kal-El stammered.

"Are of little consequence when one has connections," Jhan-Or replied serenely.

…

His interview with Jhan-Or rounded out with a few more technical details and some plotting of what to say at the next Society meeting. Afterward, Kal-El went directly home, hoping to find Lois. He needed to tell her; though Jhan-Or had counseled against letting any of the humans know ahead of time, Lois was a special case. Besides, she would soon decipher it from the change in his mood, to which she was always attuned.

Lois was not at home. She had gone for a walk, and Kal-El made the rounds of their usual walking destinations, seeking her. He began to grow nervous when he hadn't found her within an hour. What if the Consulars had brought her in for questioning? But then, they would have expected him to contact them as soon as she was discovered missing from his home. By going searching for her he might have alerted them to the fact that the humans were moving about unescorted.

No black hovercraft appeared to question him, but Kal-El grew steadily more nervous. He moved further afield, retracing his steps on occasion, wondering if perhaps Lois was lost. That seemed impossible, though.

Kal-El became more and more certain that Lois had been taken by the Consulars. He knew he needed to stop searching, calm himself, and try to think logically, but that was extremely difficult to do when his heart was racing. Eventually he managed to force himself to stop and simply breathe, sitting down on a public bench while trying to regain his composure.

It was then, while he was finally still and observing, that Kal-El noticed another unaccompanied human walking by. That in itself was of little consequence, except he thought of asking the young woman if she'd seen Lois. When he rose to address her politely, though, she turned away and picked up her pace.

Kal-El frowned at that. He strolled along in the same direction she'd taken, wondering why a human would act fearful of one of his people. A moment later he was passed by another human, this one a tall dark-skinned man walking purposefully … but in the same direction.

Something seemed strange to Kal-El, and he stepped off the main path, focusing his attention on a crystal sculpture. In the next five minutes he saw two other humans pass by. One of them was Jhan-Or's Huang.

The sudden preponderance of humans in this specific location seemed anomalous, but Kal-El wasn't even speculating on why yet. His only thought was that one of them might know where Lois was. So he turned and followed the last, a petite woman with curly dark hair and golden skin. Kal-El did not know her name, only that she was the guest of a crystal architect of some renown.

Some intuition told Kal-El to hang back, following unobtrusively. The woman turned a corner and … simply disappeared. Kal-El froze, blinking in surprise. Were all the humans disappearing one by one in this same fashion? And if so, what was the cause? He walked slowly along the same section of path, doubling back at the next corner. The human couldn't have reached that point before he turned the corner unless she had broken into a run, and he would've heard that.

While Kal-El was puzzling it over, he thought he heard a voice, quickly silenced. It was coming from the gardens off to one side of the path. This particular area was not as extensively landscaped as some others, and still had large rocky outcroppings and tall flowering plants. Kal-El began to pace along the side of the path where he thought he'd heard the voice, and eventually found a few bent stalks slowly springing back into position.

So the human woman had left the path here. He supposed that was not too surprising; hiking through the wilderness was a common pastime among humans. But why indulge here? And had the others he'd seen come the same way?

There was only one way to find out. Kal-El gingerly stepped off the path and onto the wild grass. Trying not to touch anything, he made his way in the direction of that faint voice, finding more signs of recent passage.

A few minutes brought him into earshot of _several_ humans. Apparently an argument was in progress, and Kal-El prudently stopped to listen. He did not want to embarrass anyone, or intrude on anything private, though he would not leave until he'd asked after Lois.

What he heard stole his breath.

"You dared suggest this to your father? After we _explicitly_ told you not to trust them!" a man's voice thundered.

To Kal-El's shock it was Lois who answered, and her voice held a hard edge that Kal-El barely recognized. "We have no leaders, remember? All of us are acting on our own recognizance and for the common good!"

Another man snapped, "And you, with all the wisdom of your sixteen years, you think that _this_ is for the common good? Encouraging the Earthside Resistance to make common cause with Kryptonians?"

Kal-El barely managed to stifle a gasp. Had he said _Resistance_? As in an organized revolt against Kryptonian rule?

Lois retorted, "We can't do this on our own! We don't have the resources or the access! What were you thinking, Geoffrey, we'd just steal a ship? Good luck flying it!"

"No, we were thinking of taking hostages of our own," another man replied, his voice cold and hard.

"_No_," Lois shot back. "You'll just get people killed that way, and they'll take _more_ hostages. I'm not going to get my mother or my sister trapped here!"

The first man spoke up again. "But you'd approach them for alliance! Lois, I know you feel that this Kal-El is your friend, but you cannot forget that _he is the enemy_."

Kal-El, standing just out of sight, bit his lip. Here he was with concrete plans to get them home, and the humans spoke of him by name as their foe. Did they not understand what the Benevolent Society was? Were they not grateful for the freedoms they now enjoyed? That had been _his_ doing and all for their sake—her sake, really—yet his only reward was to hear himself reviled. His temper, rarely roused, began to wake. Lois' next words did not help at all.

"Kal-El is strategically _important_. You've all seen the information I brought you—he has more access than any of your keepers. His father is the only one of the Councilors that Dru-Zod will listen to. And Kal-El himself is becoming a force to be reckoned with. I can trust him—and if I'm wrong, I can keep him quiet."

He heard the desperation in her voice and doubted _everything_. Was this the real reason she shared his bed? For information? Was Lois in fact a spy, and everything he thought she felt for him merely artifice?

Despair made him miss the next few exchanges, but at the bottom of his heart Kal-El found a cold truth harder than crystal. Even if she'd lied to him, even if she didn't love him, _he could not blame her_. Lois was a captive on this planet, after all. And even if his love was unfounded, she was still a sentient being who deserved her freedom. He might not be able to do this for love, but he would do it because it was _right_. No matter the cost.

"We cannot trust Kal-El!" someone said, practically shouting.

At that Kal-El stepped forward, brushing aside the last screen of vegetation that shielded them from his view. "You no longer have a choice," he said, with heat in his tone.

His gaze landed on Lois as her face went deathly pale and her strange eyes widened.


	30. The Cruel View Within the Looking Glass

**I'm so amazed how we're staying on schedule despite a plethora of distractions and set-backs. I think all that's in the plans today is sleep and some note-reading and set-up for the next few chapters of both stories. BIG stuff coming up on both, so sounds like fun on all fronts. ;) Enjoy!**

**_ETA_: Okay, no one EVER let me post something that early when I've been up all night. All the typos have been corrected and I'm going to go hide in shame. NEVER doing that again.**

* * *

Lois had expected resistance against her latest move, and resentment that she'd gone against the rest. What she hadn't expected was the anger. All of them seemed furious, Henri actually shouting at her. "We cannot trust Kal-El!" he bellowed, as if she were a stupid girl who might be cowed by mere noise.

She was standing taller, her chin jutting out, ready to go ten rounds if it meant dropping the bomb of just _why_ she could keep Kal-El silent, when the man himself stepped into their circle and spoke sharply. "You no longer have a choice."

All the blood seemed to drain out of her then. Lois could only stare, quivering, as Kal-El glared around the group. He looked _furious_, as she had never seen him before. Kal-El was always so mild-mannered and accommodating; even in bed he was a considerate lover. Passionate, too, but even then attuned to her needs.

Not right now. At the moment he burned with a distilled fury. "You say you cannot trust me. Perhaps it is I who cannot trust you. I have spent _hours_ searching for Lois, seeking to bring her news that the society I founded is at last in a position to perform the function for which it was intended, and instead I find a conspiracy vilifying my name. I, who will stop at nothing to secure your freedom!"

None of them could speak at that revelation. Lois trembled; they hadn't talked about this, their private moments spent in far sweeter pursuits, but she wasn't surprised to learn he really _had_ been working on some kind of abolitionist movement. Hadn't that been part of the reason why she'd fought to make an alliance? Hadn't he hinted at it several times, veiled references here and there?

When Kal-El took another step forward, all of them fell back—except Henri and Lois herself. Fixing his gaze on Henri, Kal-El demanded, "It was you, was it not, who sabotaged the construction? My own uncle may be martyred for your impatience!"

"It wasn't us," Lois protested, stepping forward. "We were planning to, but your people got to it first."

"Lois!" Geoffrey practically yelped. She didn't have time to spare him a disdainful look. Kal-El _knew_ what he'd interrupted. This wasn't a goddamn quilting circle, for crying out loud.

That only took the edge off his anger. Kal-El was still furious, and now he was locked on Lois. "You would plan an act of _war_, knowing what it would cost? Everyone involved could have been banished to the Phantom Zone!"

"And what were we supposed to do, stand idly by while _your_ people build a fleet of military ships we cannot hope to combat?" Henri spat back, getting between them. "I will not trust you on the basis of a few flimsy words and even flimsier threats! _I_ have not forgotten what you are! I don't care what manner of nonsense you've convinced Lois to believe; not all of us are teenage girls who've read too many adventure novels and think they can save the world single-handedly!"

Lois felt her face heat up in a spectacular blush. So that was it, then. They all thought she was a silly child playing choose-your-own-adventure on the grandest scale of all. But before she could shout back, Kal-El took a step closer, his beautiful blue eyes gone storm-dark. "You _will_ mind your tongue when you speak of her, _human_!"

That snarled epithet was the worst thing he could've possibly said. Henri sneered, his dark eyes flashing. "Or what, _alien_? There are forty of us and only one of you! Just what do you think you can do here?!"

Tempers were rising, not least of them Lois'. "Knock it off, both of you!" she spat, grabbing Henri by the arm and only just remembering not to touch Kal-El in front of other people. But oh, the look he gave her when their eyes met, full of betrayal and wrath. For a moment it froze her.

The rest of the humans were tightening their circle, but Kal-El seemed not yet aware of his danger, his attention locked on Lois and Henri, who tried to shake her restraining hand off. For one second it looked like a brawl was about to break out.

And then Huang spoke up in a low, controlled voice that struck every one of them. "Enough. If we make any more noise, we'll have the Consulars here to arrest us all." That cooled them for the moment, long enough for Huang to catch the older man's other arm. "Henri, my friend, enough. Kal-El is right. We have no choice but to trust him now. And Lois was right as well. If he wasn't on our side, he would've gone to the Consulars as soon as he knew what we were discussing."

Lois managed to breathe a sigh of relief, and Huang's next words pierced her. "Perhaps we should have listened to her sooner. Who knows what lengths she would've gone to, in order to make her point."

Thoroughly flustered, Henri stepped back, straightening his cuffs. "Perhaps you're right. I … I cannot bear the thought of us failing now."

"Nor can I," Kal-El said, mastering his temper with difficulty, but mastering it nonetheless. "I have been on your side from the first. And I apologize for what I just called you. 'Human' is no insult, not to me." With that, he offered his hand.

Lois managed not to gasp. Silence dropped on the Resistance like an anvil. Kryptonians did not touch, ever. A handshake was more intimate than a soul kiss. That he offered one in apology to a human he hadn't even _met_ before today was momentous.

Henri knew it, and stared at the proffered hand. He ground out bitterly, "Aren't you afraid of catching our human germs?"

Kal-El didn't withdraw his hand, but he did offer Henri a thin smile. "We're already contaminated. All of us, even those who have never had a human in our homes. I spoke to a biologist about it recently, and was quite surprised at what I learned. So, Henri, let us shake hands and be friends, for we shall all have need of friends before this venture is complete."

Bemusedly, Henri took his hand and shook it twice. Kal-El didn't show any sign of discomfort, and only Lois knew why, her heart in her mouth at this. They were so close to being discovered and having all of their credibility shot straight to hell.

"Well then," Geoffrey said. "Since we have no choice, I suppose we might as well trust you."

"You might as well, since I am apparently supplying a good deal of your information. Not that I knew about it," Kal-El replied, with an edge to his voice that made Lois wince. "I was not supposed to speak of this with any human, though I intended to tell Lois as I am certain of her discretion. And since you have all kept the existence of the Resistance a secret so far, I suppose I must equally trust to _your_ collective discretion."

He stopped to look each of them in the eye. When his gaze landed on Lois, it seared her. She couldn't tell him that she'd been speaking for the others' benefit, that in her heart of hearts she had never used him … not when she _had_ gotten information from him, solely for the Resistance. All she could do was look levelly back at him and try not to let the heartbreak show.

Kal-El took a deep breath before continuing. "Have patience. We will very soon be in a position to begin smuggling you back to Earth, several at a time, on the transport ships returning to pick up more salt. Once all of you are safely back on Earth, we have … other plans. But the eventual goal is amity and free trade between our peoples. Can I count on your cooperation—and discretion? Now is not the time to reveal your intentions or ours to the Consulars."

"Other plans?" Huang asked softly. "Perhaps … a few changes in policy?"

"Something like that," Kal-El replied, his eyes cautious. "I'm afraid you have not met us at our best. Krypton has been a fair and tolerant democracy for the last thousand years. It is only within the current generation, and with the dire threat of annihilation forcing an exodus, that we have come to the current state of affairs."

Lois could feel the restless tension in the group, but Geoffrey spoke up before any of them could question Kal-El. "The less we know about that side of things, the better. Just in case any of us are caught, we can't reveal what we don't know."

Nodding, Kal-El agreed. "If we are discovered, it would be better overall for the Consulars to think we are merely abolitionists. There would still be chances for freedom, later. More than one faction is at work here, and even if we fail the group as a whole shall not falter."

Henri had been looking thoughtful. "Do you truly believe that your entire Benevolent Society will simply surrender their humans? Especially when so much is at risk for each of them? Any of them could be branded a traitor for releasing us."

Kal-El looked very serious. "Others in the group are assured of it, and I trust their judgment. Further, I shall lead by example. Lois will be among the first group of humans returned home."

Lois cast astonished eyes on him. From the moment he'd stumbled onto them, any expectation she had of what would happen from moment to moment had been thrown out the window. There was no way to judge what he meant and how, not when _anything_ could happen next. And staying impartial wasn't even a possibility. She could barely breathe between every exchange, but surprise gave her speech at this last. Either he still cared more than he wanted to admit … or else the fury over what he'd discovered was _that _enormous. "No, Kal-El, it shouldn't be—"

"It must be you," he answered, much too calm. His voice might be level and his posture perfectly correct, but she saw the storm in his eyes, their royal-blue depths full of things unspoken. "I am something of a figurehead within the Society, and you are an outlier among the humans, being the youngest. I intend to provide an example. It is unimaginably cruel to imprison you here, and beneath Kryptonian dignity to be complicit in such injustice. If I—the son of the last Councilor with any influence upon the Supreme Chancellor, the Kryptonian whose knowledge of human society is most encyclopedic, and not least the Society member who has developed the deepest and most egalitarian friendship with his human ward—if _I_ am the first to offer to free you, then the rest shall be shamed into following suit."

Lois' heart stuttered in her chest. It all made very good sense, and she knew then that this decision had been made _before_ he caught on to the Resistance.

Gabriela tossed her dark hair over one shoulder, considering. She'd kept silent so far, merely watching Kal-El, but spoke up then. "Are you so certain? If even one of your people dissents and reports to the Consulars, you will face heavy censure _because_ of who your father is. And who your uncle is."

"I know that, and plans are in place to mitigate that risk." Kal-El continued, with heat in his tone, "I am not above using shame or even blackmail as a goad to make them do what they already know is right. They merely need the impetus to act, to stop telling themselves that we are making the best of a bad situation, that it is enough that we can permit you to walk freely about unaccompanied, as if you are all particularly well-behaved dogs who no longer need a leash. Relations between our people have been spoiled from the start, and this situation is beyond repair. We must start over, and begin by returning what was not ours to take. It is the only ethical way."

While Lois stared, eyes wide, Huang came up to her and put one hand on her shoulder. "What I said earlier, I said to stop the fighting," he told her. "But it was true nonetheless. You were right. We should have trusted him earlier. I've met a few firebrands determined to change history, and Kal-El is one of them."

Even Henri nodded. "Little as I like losing one of the leaders of the Resistance in the first transport, at least we know Lois can carry a wealth of intel with her."

The rest of the meeting—plots and plans and a dozen fiddly little details—went right over Lois' head. She was numb to it all, aware of only one thing: Kal-El's look toward her had not yet softened. She still saw the hard glint of betrayal in his eyes.

…

Lois knew it was coming. The fire in his gaze amongst the others had been warning enough; once they were alone, the embers of that fury arced around his person like a kind of force field. She could swear she could feel the heat just walking a step or two away from him. They had silence on the way back from the meeting. Lois was feeling completely at odds: both like a chastised child being escorted home after some ridiculous stunt and like a woman climbing a scaffold to the gallows. The dread of the unknown ate at her. She had come to rely on his incredible calm, his intrinsic good nature. Neither were in residence at the moment. It only made it worse that Kal-El barely even looked at her until they were inside and the door closed between them and the rest of the world.

And then the inevitable happened just like she had known it would. He caught her by the forearms with a suddenness that still struck her by surprise, Kal-El trembling with anger like she'd never seen from him before. Her breath was lost somewhere in her chest. She couldn't even look him in the eye. "Why did you lie to me?" he demanded.

Lois winced at that. The rush of guilt was bitter, almost too bitter to swallow. "I never actually lied," she whispered, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. She had always known she was safe on this planet, no one would physically harm her because they couldn't bear touch—but she'd taught one of them to welcome it. And Kal-El was taller and stronger than she was. Never before would the thought have occurred to her, but now….

Now she just didn't know. All of the cards on the table, the view between them wasn't quite as pretty. And she couldn't say she blamed him. It looked bad no matter which way you looked at her actions. Still glaring at her, he gave her a light shake. "You know what I meant! Why did you never tell me there was a Resistance—and that you were part of it?!"

There was a lump of steel in her belly, but Lois couldn't stop herself from answering. "I couldn't," she retorted, finding her courage. "It's a _rebellion_, Kal-El!"

"And all of this, every confidence, every intimacy, was that just so I'd be more malleable? So I'd give you more _information_?" he spat.

God, this looked a million times worse that she had expected him at see it. It had all gone wrong; everything had gone wrong if he thought that she could have let it go this far for something like intelligence. "No! Kal-El, I wouldn't. Not for something like that!" That broke Lois' heart. Everything she'd felt had been real, and the thought of leaving him wounded her even though he was scaring her right now. "_Please_ know better!"

"How can I believe that? How can I ever trust you again? Everything I did for you, you turned around and _used_ me to gather intelligence! You've been a _spy_, Lois!" He punctuated each sentence with another little shake, not enough to rock her on her feet yet, but what it portended was terrifying.

Why? Why had it had to happen like this? With no real way to explain? She had to _live_ with him, after all. After this, after the betrayal, she still had to live under his roof for however long it took to get her off the planet. Never mind that she wasn't so sure anymore exactly what she wanted for herself, that the romantic in her wanted to stay until the bitter end and somehow smuggle him home with her. It was stupid, the things that roared through her as she stared up at Kal-El. The events of the last half hour were more surreal and immediate to her than it had been since the moment she'd boarded the ship that had brought her here. Right now she was more frightened than she'd ever been on New Krypton. The one person she needed to trust and rely on was blatantly furious with her.

"I don't know," she managed to whimper, her stomach roiling. "I don't know, Kal-El. I'm scared, I've been scared since I got here, I _had_ to be part of the Resistance because you never told me about the Society until recently—and as soon as you did I started pushing for an alliance! Or did you miss that part?" Her voice had grown stronger by the end, and her gaze was solidly locked on him despite the tears in her eyes.

"I had always meant to use the Society to free you," he told her, but something in him softened then, and he didn't shake her. "I am not its leader, though, and until today I was unaware of the ultimate plan. It is not just your freedom we seek, Lois, it is our own. Jhan-Or is planning a political coup. He means to force the Supreme Chancellor to step down, by any means necessary. And I believe he has the connections and the cunning to accomplish it."

"That's the thing. I wanted to tell you, I really did. I wanted to tell you from the first moment Henri whispered 'Vive la Resistance' in my ear. But I couldn't, Kal-El. I just … couldn't." The tears spilled over then, and Lois pulled away from him to dash them from her eyes. This was so damn weak, crying like an idiot teenage girl when the fate of both their peoples were at stake. Like a character in one of those lousy rom-coms her mother loved back home. God, she didn't want to do this anymore….

"Why not?" That time, he wasn't insisting. Kal-El was pleading with her.

The same tone was in her voice when she answered. "I don't know! I wanted to, the longer this has gone on. I mean, everyone said not to trust you, that your dad was deep in the middle of this, that you were the enemy! What happened wasn't planned. I tried to tell myself I was Mata Hari, using my feminine wiles to get information from you, but even I knew that was a lie. I never planned for any of this with us to happen. But somehow I … I kinda…." Her lips quivered even with her considerable willpower. "I knew better. They told me all of this, I believed it but somewhere in the middle of all this, I fell in love with you. I know how stupid it sounds after all of this, but I still do. I still love you."

For a long moment he stared at her, perhaps trying to divine the truth of that statement. Finally, he spoke. "I love you, too, Lois. I … I truly don't want you to leave. Even if that's what's best for you. I don't want to lose you."

At the way his voice broke, she turned and flung herself into his arms. Kal-El caught her and held her as she fought the sobs rising from her chest. Still feeling like all of this couldn't be real, couldn't be happening to her, Lois could only hold on tight. They were just kids; how the hell had they found themselves in a mess like this? But, for the first time, she found herself not completely regretting the situation. "I don't want to go, I don't, I want to stay with you. _I want to stay with you_."

The irony that the only human on New Krypton who had a reason to _want_ to be there would be one of the first to escape wasn't lost on either of them. At the moment, however, they were both more concerned with apologies for secrets kept, confidences betrayed, and loyalties doubted, all of which quickly led them to the bedroom.


	31. A Definitive Call to Arms

**Okay, it's that time again. Another cold in the house, but we're battling through. Anissa caught it from her mother, but I've managed not to catch it _thus far_...or not so that I notice with my usual sniffles. We're still up and swinging and should be staying on schedule, though! Enjoy, all!**

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The Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Expansion was meeting in full—one hundred Kryptonians from a variety of occupations and backgrounds, all gathered into one space. Strangely, this particular meeting was being held outdoors, in one of the spaces that had been cleared for construction that had not yet begun. A few of the assembled people grumbled about that, but most let it go. It was a pleasant enough day, and there were few indoor spaces where all of them could meet without feeling cramped.

Kal-El was only giving part of his attention to the current speaker, a nutritionist who was presenting her findings on optimal human diets. Apparently some of the humans had been developing nutritional deficiencies of late. Lois didn't have that problem, but then, he was able to keep her reasonably well-supplied with food from Earth.

The rest of his attention was absorbed by the transport ship designs Jhan-Or had given him. They were his father's work, rough drafts from before the finalized designs which had saved their people. And yet they fascinated Kal-El. He had pored over the notes, making the occasional adjustment—if he needed to use those designs to lead the Consulars astray, they would have to be convincing. He doubted they would believe he had simply borrowed unfinished schematics from his father, so he worked on them as if he actually meant to build them.

One design in particular held his attention, and he had been gradually refining it. Even when he didn't have the plans with him, Kal-El had that particular ship structure embossed on his mind's eye. In moments of inattention he returned to it, imagining the effect of a change here or there. It was almost a pity that he wouldn't be able to actually construct the ship he had in mind….

Abruptly, his focused shifted back to the society. A debate had sprung up, and Nira Kor-En had just stepped forward. When Jhan-Or acknowledged her, she turned and spoke to the assembled group. "We can discuss the ethics of importing black-market human foodstuffs for days. There is a deeper issue here, one that we have been overlooking. All of us are aware of it, yet we are willfully blind."

Kal-El caught his breath. Was this the moment? It certainly seemed to be. Nira met the eyes of those nearest her with a penetrating gaze. "The humans do not belong here," she stated flatly.

"That is obvious," someone said, and Jhan-Or called the meeting sharply to order, reminding them that Nira alone had the right to speak.

"Yes, it _is _obvious," she countered. "And yet we have kept them here for _months_. We tell ourselves we wish the best for them, and that our efforts to obtain proper food and housing are exemplary, when in fact this is the bare minimum expected of us as wardens. We offer them the company of their own kind and a modicum of liberty, and tell ourselves that we are daring to give them what they have _always_ known on their own planet. We know that they are sentient, intelligent beings like ourselves, and yet we believe that they can be controlled by this barbaric practice of keeping some of their number _hostage_."

That was strongly worded; no one had yet dared to call the humans' situation what it was in public, and Kal-El heard a few murmurs from the crowd. Nira was not dissuaded. "Do not delude yourselves that your humans are guests, that they reside here as part of some goodwill effort. Their families on Earth know why they are here: to prevent any attempt at aggression with the _threat_ of revenge upon these humans we have taken captive. Humans, let us not forget, who were carefully selected as the spouses and children of important military and civilian leaders from Earth's most prominent nations. None of them are fooled by the pretense of guests and hosts, and we should not forget it. For all our best intentions, my friends, we are participating in this travesty. _We_ are the jailers, and no matter how humane we try to be, the fact remains that _we_ are holding these people captive."

Kal-El had to admire her calculated eloquence, in which he saw Jhan-Or's hand at work. She had called them humans up until the very last line, and then referred to them as 'people' with the specific noun that Kryptonians used to refer to one another.

The murmuring began almost immediately, and Jhan-Or let it go on for a moment before again calling for order. Sar-Ves stepped forward to speak, and was acknowledged. "What you say is true, Nira Kor-En. However, I see no alternative. None of us chose to bring the humans here; that was accomplished by decree. By taking care of them ourselves, we are doing the best we can for them."

"Only if we are cowards," Nira replied, and Sar-Ves' eyes widened in shock. Kal-El was riveted on the debate by then; he wouldn't be surprised if the roles he was seeing were carefully scripted by Jhan-Or. In fact, he would be even less surprised to learn that Jhan-Or had not coached either of them, merely positioned them both so that they would do what came naturally to them—and serve his goals in the process. That, of course, made him wonder what his role was supposed to be in the unfolding drama.

"Explain," Sar-Ves said, rather clipped.

"Do you honestly believe that we, as Kryptonians, can do nothing more than apologize to our human guests for their captivity?" Nira countered. "We are teachers, scientists, doctors, architects, even a few politicians. We are capable of swift and decisive action—we all escaped the doom of Krypton-that-was, and only by working together toward a shared goal. Can we do _nothing_ save bemoan injustice?"

Only then did Jhan-Or speak up. "We escaped by the foresight and leadership of General Zod, not by our own efforts. Most of us discounted what we chose not to believe. I was there when the Science Council forbade Jor-El to even _speak_ of the coming disaster."

Nira turned to him, her chin lifted. "And have we learned nothing from that mistake? Because we preferred the safety of blindness, we had to lose the right to democratic rule in order to survive. Surely we have learned that we must act of our will to do what is _right_, not what is comfortable, nor allow ourselves to be driven."

Jhan-Or looked thoughtful. Sar-Ves, however, shook his head. "You sound like Zor-El."

That brought a wave of silence, and everyone near Kal-El pointedly looked anywhere but at him. Nira, however, only smiled. "I expected to hear that name sooner or later. Is there anyone among you brave enough to speak what we all know to be true?"

That might be his cue, but before he could move forward, someone else did. "Zor-El is not mad," a young man said. Kal-El didn't know his name; he was one of those who recently joined the society. A murmur of agreement met those words, as more people were emboldened by the one's decision to stand forward.

"No, he is not," Nira agreed. "We have surrendered our right to govern ourselves, and because of that we are made to participate in the imprisonment of other sentient races. We ought to be shamed by how far we have fallen from what we once were. Our own forefathers would not recognize the choices we've made."

That was when Tar-Kon stepped forward, not waiting for acknowledgement, and spoke hotly. "You forget that those humans fired on the Rozz IV unprovoked, killing the crew. That can be no less than a declaration of war. Supreme Chancellor Zod is a _military_ leader. Who better to assume control during such events?"

"Indeed, who better?" Jhan-Or said. "If not for that attack, surely the Science Council would have required that Dru-Zod make good on his promise to step down once he was no longer needed. If we are at war, however, clearly we need him." His voice was flat, suggesting nothing, but the implication was still there.

The silence lay heavily on the crowd as each of them digested that. Kal-El felt a chill down his spine. Almost before he knew it, he was moving forward, but Jhan-Or did not acknowledge him. Instead, Nira spoke again. "The humans' attack on our ship came from one nation; we have chosen to hold an entire planet hostage. Further, we cannot say the attack was unprovoked. Look at the recent history of human culture, and how first contact with a technologically superior race has generally been portrayed in their literature and cinema. These were the very sources we studied as we investigated Earth. I cannot believe that a military strategist of Dru-Zod's caliber was completely unaware of the panic our scanning probes would cause."

Tar-Kon stared at her, aghast. "You mean to say this war was _manufactured_?"

"It is possible," Jhan-Or mused. "We may never know. The fact remains, we are in a precarious position now. The humans cannot accept this situation tamely. They must be terrified for their people here; no matter how positive their communications sound, no matter how many messages are smuggled via the black market, this state of affairs is not one that they can allow to stand. They _will_ retaliate eventually. For the good of all of our people, we must do anything in our power to prevent all-out war."

"Wait," Tar-Kon said. "Be cautious, Jhan-Or. You delve too close to inciting treason. And I am bound by my duty to report the same."

"Oh? Have you decided to don Consular black then?" the young man challenged.

Kal-El was close enough to see Tar-Kon's skin flush with anger. Domestic security personnel such as he, who had largely been drafted into the Bureau of Human Affairs, were not given the same respect and authority as the Consulars.

Jhan-Or waved them all to silence. "Tar-Kon, there can be no treason in acting in the best interests of all Kryptonians. If our leader cannot see the danger his decisions have put us in, it is our duty to rectify the situation as best we can."

Tar-Kon's temper was up, and he was in no mood to be mollified. "You are the wiliest of all politicians, Jhan-Or. Do not think that all of us here are fooled. I would not hesitate to turn you over to the authorities."

For a long moment the older man simply looked at him, and then Jhan-Or smiled. "You should reconsider that, Tar-Kon. Hesitation would be a start. Forgetting entirely any plans you had of reporting this meeting would be a much better idea. For as you say, I _am_ a politician. Do you honestly believe I would allow even a hint of treason to be spoken in my meeting, if I did not have the means to ensure the discussion would never leave this group?"

Much to Kal-El's surprise, Tar-Kon paled at that. He wondered what secrets the other man had to hide—and if Jhan-Or was bluffing. Somehow he doubted it. It wouldn't have surprised Kal-El to learn that Jhan-Or had blackmail material on every possible dissenter.

That was quite disturbing. Kal-El had considered Jhan-Or a friend and mentor. Now he was using intimidation tactics to get his way. Kal-El remembered the day they had formed the society and elected Jhan-Or its chairman. He had informed that they had no means of removing him from his post—and in fact, part of the reason he'd been chosen for this duty was because he professed not to desire it. Was he canny enough to have feigned disinterest in order to attain the post? Kal-El thought so.

Perhaps his father was right. Perhaps Jhan-Or was simply too much a politician to be completely trusted. He was perfectly willing to use unethical means toward an ethical end—at least, Kal-El hoped it was an ethical end. He was beginning to doubt far more than was comfortable.

Tar-Kon had stammered a few words to the effect of being loyal to Krypton's best interest and not its current leader, which seemed to mollify Jhan-Or. The discussion had become fractured, the various members of the society talking amongst themselves in a disorganized fashion. Nira's speech had certainly gotten them thinking, and Kal-El was heartened by the murmurs he heard. Most of them recognized the injustice of the situation, and he had hope that this could be the nucleus of a resolution that would benefit his people … and Lois'.

Sar-Ves spoke, cutting across the general mutters. "It does not matter. Regardless of what you suggest, Nira Kor-En, we are in no position to effect a change in the humans' circumstances. We have done the best we can for them. What more would you have us do?"

And _that_ was it, Kal-El's cue, his moment to enter this debate. It was as perfectly timed as if it had all been scripted for the start, and yet he didn't mind that. This was right. He stepped forward and fixed Sar-Ves with his intense gaze, only peripherally noticing Jhan-Or's acknowledgement. "The only thing we _can_ do, if we are true to our ethics. We must free the humans."

Silence dropped again, shocked stares centering on him, but no objections yet. And he meant for there to be none. Kal-El stood tall, his voice level and firm. "Surely within this group we have the intelligence and the resources to accomplish it. Yes, if we free the humans, we will prevent the war which their families would surely seek in retribution. But we should not undertake this simply because we can, or because it benefits us, or even because we have come to respect our human guests. We should do this because it is _right_. Keeping hostages is against everything our society has stood for in the past millennium. It goes against every honest heart, to keep these people trapped here as prisoners when they have done no wrong against us."

For once, he had their complete attention, and he warmed to it. "The decision to bring them here may have been sound military strategy, but we are not a nation of warlords. Our history, our strength, is in democracy, negotiation, and amity. We cannot stand by and allow the humans to be held captive; we cannot participate in their imprisonment, even if we do so only to better their condition. The only true improvement is to free them, to return them to their homes and families. It is what we would hope for, had the situation been reversed—that some humans would see the barbarity of taking hostages, and free our fellows in defiance of the government that sees only strategy. This task is placed before us. We _must_ act on what we know to be right, or we shall know ourselves for cowards."

After a pause, Jhan-Or spoke slowly. "It could indeed be done, and I do agree with Kal-El that this is the wisest course of action. Surely it will take time and effort, and the humans must be moved only a few at time to reduce suspicion."

And this, finally, was the moment Kal-El had dreaded. "Then let my Lois be among the first. For as most of you know, I consider her a true friend. She is not a primitive, inferior species; she is the equal of any of us in determination, and exceeds us all in courage. Among her people she is yet a child, not having attained the age of majority, and yet Lois _volunteered_ for this duty to spare her ailing mother and her even younger sister the burden. Let her valor be rewarded."

He felt an unaccustomed tightness in his chest at saying that; perhaps this was what was meant by the human expression about hearts breaking. She was more than his friend, she was his lover, his ally, his partner—and to spare her people he had to send her away. Yet despite the pain, Kal-El knew he was following the only righteous course available to him. _Someday I will find her again_, he told himself.

Even Tar-Kon nodded at that, and Nira and Sar-Ves both smiled at him. Jhan-Or was the one who spoke, however. "Kal-El, you are an example to us all," he said, and his eyes shone with pride that could not have been falsified.

Now if only Kal-El could use that pride and acceptance and knowledge of following the right course to warm the icy spot in the pit of his stomach, the place that knew only that Lois was leaving, and soon.


	32. And You Ask Yourself, Where Is My Mind

**Everyone expect a surprise or two this chapter. ;) That's all I'm saying._  
_**

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_I was swimming in the Caribbean  
Animals were hiding behind the rocks  
Except a little fish, but they told me  
He swears he was trying to talk to me, to me_

_Where is my mind?_  
_Where is my mind?_  
_Where is my mind?_

_Way out in the water_  
_See it swimming_  
_Where is my mind?_

_Way out in the water_  
_See it swimming_  
_Where is my mind?_  
_Where is my mind?_  
_Where is my mind?_

~_**Yoav feat. Emily Browning **_

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Lois fumed, staring bitterly at the door. The flare of anger burning through her was the only thing that was making her current situation seem real. She had spent the last month in constant state of keyed-up terror, waiting at any moment for the Consulars to discover their plan and arrest everyone. It had gotten so bad that she was pretty much nauseous all the time, barely keeping food down. The only times she felt safe were the nights spent in Kal-El's arms, when for a little while they could both focus only on each other. As the departure date approached, however, even that paled, as she couldn't stop thinking about how she might not ever see him again.

All of those feelings had come to a head the night before she left, when neither of them had slept at all, not wanting to miss a single moment. Lois had felt as if Kal-El would disappear if she closed her eyes for more than a second, and she hadn't been able to stop touching him, trying to memorize every square inch of skin. The planes of his shoulders and chest, the muscles of his arms, the long bones of his legs, and every little expression that crossed his face, all of it, she had caressed and kissed and committed to memory against the coming day.

And then the day had dawned, and she had gone covertly with Kal-El to the port where the containers of salt were ferried down from the enormous transport ships in orbit. Lois and the other humans going on this trip—the oldest and the most emotionally fragile, with Lois being the only key member of the Resistance—had snuck into empty shipping containers that had conveniently been fitted out with all the necessities of travel.

She hadn't even been able to kiss Kal-El goodbye, not in front of the other humans and their Kryptonians. The best Lois had been able to do was surreptitiously take his hand as he took off her tracking crystal and put it around his own neck, where his robes would hide it. They'd shared a long look, full of so many things unsaid, and he had murmured, "I _will_ find you again."

That one sentence had her on the verge of tears and they couldn't linger. She could only hope that he could tell in her expression what she didn't dare say aloud. She'd had to leave—and then she'd had to spend the next two days of the trip trying to keep the others' spirits up, despite how disconnected she felt herself getting. From the moment the decision had been made that she would be leaving, everything had been going so fast, as if she were watching a film play out all around her. All she could do was push her own shell-shocked feelings aside and press on for the others. The quarters were cramped, but thanks to Kryptonian technology were more comfortable than Lois had expected. Still, the two days had gone by in something like numb desperation.

And then, Earth. _Home_. Only it felt like a foreign country. Hustled out of the shipping containers and into the back of a camouflaged jeep, driven along rutted roads at high speed, Lois and the others were stunned silent by the transition. She'd forgotten the noise and dust and _smells_ of Earth—it had been nearly a year since she'd last breathed air that tasted of exhaust, and it set her stomach off again. Luckily she'd been too nervous to eat and could only dry-heave.

On a base somewhere, and she and the other escapees were quickly hustled off to separate rooms. No welcoming party, only serious soldiers, except Lois saw a single familiar face: her father. General Sam Lane, in battle fatigues just like any of his men, and when their eyes met she couldn't miss the expression on his face. Joy, pride, relief, a mix of things she'd never expected to see, and right then she could've wept for the realization that some part of her had _never_ expected to see her family again in any circumstances.

The next instant, he was the General again, barking orders to get the freed hostages settled in and comfortable before debriefing. Lois was whisked out of his sight, checked over by a medic who drew blood for tests, fed a warm meal, and allowed to sleep on an Army-issue cot.

Later she woke from a muddled dream, thinking the escape was the next day and that everything that had happened was the dream, just a dream and she had a few more precious minutes with Kal-El, and she stumbled to her feet and tried to leave.

Only then did she realize her room was locked from the outside.

…

Chomping an unlit cigar, editor-in-chief Perry White glared out over the newsroom of the _Daily Planet_, his infamous Monday Morning Massacre staff-meeting in full-swing. Much like the swing that could come from a suddenly-released Sword of Damocles. Especially in light of the topic that currently occupied their boss' mind. His reporters all stared back, trying not to blink. "All right, what've ya got for me?" he snapped out in a voice of barely-restrained wrath.

A beat of silence, and then Galloway filled it. "We have reports of troop movements all around the mining site, and a massive influx of infantry to the zone."

"And?" Perry growled.

"And not much else," Galloway replied irritably. "The military officially denies any extra troops have been posted, and our unofficial sources say it's additional security due to the ships having arrived."

"Which is bullshit," Perry retorted. "Does _anybody_ have any idea what's really going on?"

His only answer was embarrassed silence, and Perry nearly bit through his cigar. "What is wrong with you people? This is investigative journalism—that means you have to actually _investigate_! This is the biggest damn story of our generation, bigger than the moon landing, bigger than the Cuban missile crisis, bigger than Watergate! And here you're telling me you _believe_ the military when they say an extra thousand soldiers is just _insurance_?!"

None of them looked him in the eye, and he scoffed. "_Great Caesar's Ghost_! I'll tell you, boys and girls, whoever brings me the _real_ story of what's going on with these Kryptonians will get a corner office and a _raise_!"

…

Lois had thought she was furious before, but in the hours that followed her anger was hammered and tempered to a level of compressed wrath she'd never felt before. The surreal numbness of the last few days was wearing off, finally. She was debriefed by a series of officers and agents from what felt like every military and civilian intelligence agency she'd ever heard of, her meals were brought to her by an aide who barely spoke two words to her, and her requests to see her mother, her sister, and even her father were met with promises that they would be here soon, but as time passed she knew she was being stonewalled.

This would not stand. She hadn't left the planet and spent almost a year as a captive and a spy to be treated like this. And unfortunately for everyone who interacted with her, at the end of the day Lois _was_ her father's daughter.

Someone else from one of the alphabet-soup agencies came in to speak with her, and Lois was lying down with her eyes closed when the door opened. "Miss Lane?" the man said. "I have a few questions for you, if you wouldn't mind getting up." He sounded so polite and calm that she almost felt bad for what she was about to do, but the military and government were both very, very good at letting a person hover in bureaucratic limbo as long as they needed to.

"I would," she replied.

"Pardon?" he asked, confused.

Lois took a deep breath, forcing her voice level. She wanted to scream, she wanted to throw the chair across the room, but they had ways of dealing with that. Ways she wouldn't like, ways that would only put more time and space between herself and her goal. So instead she spoke calmly and a trifle more quietly than usual. "I mind getting up. I mind answering the same questions a dozen times for different people. I mind being locked in here for my own safety. But what I mind the most is being kept from my family. So I won't be doing any of that until I speak with my father."

She actually wanted Lucy and Momma, wanted them both so much it was a physical ache that brought her to the edge of tears, but none of these people could or would arrange that meeting. Her father had the influence to do it, and he was already here, so he was the one she asked for.

"I'll get General Lane in here to see you as soon as possible, Miss," the agent said, and left.

Lois knew what was coming next: a long wait, longer than anything else, to make her rethink her position. So she closed her eyes and went to sleep. In spite of her jangling nerves and the furious anger broiling in her chest, she lay still and pretended to sleep until pretense became reality.

The door opening again woke her several hours later, but she didn't look over at it just yet. This wouldn't be her father, not so quickly, and she wanted them to know they couldn't break her. Her certainty was proved right when a woman's voice said, "Dinner, Miss Lane?"

"No, thank you," Lois replied politely, though her stomach growled at the scent of pot roast and mashed potatoes that drifted on the air.

"You're not hungry?" the woman asked sympathetically.

"Oh, I'm hungry. But I refuse to cooperate with _anything_ until I see my father. I won't speak to any of your advisors, either. Just my father." She turned her head then, seeing a woman in fatigues who looked decidedly uneasy about this.

Lois smiled. "And if anyone gets any bright ideas about sticking an IV in me or running a tube up my nose and down into my stomach, you tell them to think twice. This is passive resistance; you don't want to see active resistance. Ask my dad." With that she closed her eyes again and rolled to face the wall.

The woman left the food behind, on the little table at which Lois and her interviewers—though they'd felt more like interrogators—had sat. She resisted it with every ounce of determination, making sure they all knew she meant business. Another long silence followed, and Lois waited it out.

At last, the door opened, and in walked the General. She knew him by his footsteps, and got to her feet immediately, fighting down a shaken feeling in her gut. There was her father, finally seeing her in person and closer than thirty feet for the first time in almost a year. No more look of pride on his face though, now his expression was stormy. Lois told herself she'd expected that. She was _refusing to follow orders_, after all, and he served his country first. Family had always come second.

It should've been no surprise that his first words weren't 'good work' or 'welcome home' or even 'I missed you'. The very first thing he said when he walked in was, "Why aren't you cooperating?"

Lois stood up before answering him, moving in no particular hurry. "I want to see Momma, and I want to see Lucy. I'm _done_ cooperating until I see them."

"You're being a child," he said, a harsh note in his voice.

"Maybe this escaped you, _sir_, but legally I _am_ a child," Lois shot back. "Not that it stopped you from trying to make me a soldier, or stopped me from becoming a spy and one of the leaders of the Resistance on New Krypton."

"You've served well, but if you want to be acknowledged like an adult, you'll have to act like one," he said sternly.

"Believe me, I am. But if _you_ want me to act like an ally in this war, then you'd damn well better stop treating me like a prisoner."

"No one is treating you like—" he started to say.

She cut him off, which Lois knew he hated. "Locked in a windowless room with no clock, interrogated repeatedly, denied the simple request to see my family again after eleven months in enemy territory? Sounds a lot like prison. I had more freedom on New Krypton."

His flinty blue eyes narrowed. "You can't see your mother and your sister, anyway. They're both in Witness Protection. Not even I know where they are."

That struck Lois, and she wavered. "You have the connections to find out," she insisted.

"I wouldn't want to. They're both safer out of this," he replied.

It was the truth, no matter how much she missed them—but she resented her father for hiding them away nonetheless. Lois rallied, meeting his eyes determinedly. "Then get me the hell out of here. I'll talk to anyone you want me to talk to, but on my own terms. I don't appreciate being locked down like I'm the enemy."

"I can't do that, either," General Lane insisted. "Not only is the intelligence you brought back vital, you're at risk if any of _them_ realize you made it back here. You're not in prison, Lois. You're under military protection."

"Same difference," she growled. "I hope the intelligence officers got everything they wanted, then, because no one's getting another _shred_ of information from me until I'm out of this room."

"You don't want to play this game," the General warned.

"I'm not playing," Lois promised him.

With that his jaw set, his fists clenched, and he turned on his heel to walk out. A tiny part of Lois, the part that was truly still a child, had hoped he would listen to her, hoped he would do this for her because she was his daughter and she needed him to. In that moment, as he left her, that part of her finally broke. "How dare you!" she shouted, her voice shaking. "How dare you walk out on me and leave me locked up like some kind of _animal_ in a cage! After everything I did for you: sixteen years old getting on a ship to another goddamn _solar system_, living in enemy territory for _months_ all by myself, getting in on the Resistance, gathering information and passing it off, single-handedly creating the alliance with the Kryptonians, after all of that you can't even thank me? I spent every moment of every day wondering when the Consulars were going to sweep down and arrest us all, worried I was going to _die_ there before I saw home again, and all you can do is leave me in this hole to rot? No wonder I always hated you! You never gave a damn about me, or anything except your spotless _record_!"

Sam turned back to her, his features sharply etched and bitterly cold. "You're exaggerating," he snapped.

"You weren't there, you arrogant ass," Lois raged. "If anything I'm understating it."

His lips tightened. At that moment they both had the same expression of unbridled wrath burning in their eyes. And then the General ground out, "For someone who spent _every moment of every day_ fighting for the Resistance, you still somehow managed to find enough time to get yourself _knocked up_ by one of your fellow captives."

Those words rocked Lois back on her heels, her eyes gone wide. The nausea throughout the last month, which she'd thought was stress—and stress was why her period was late, too, or so she'd thought. Her cycle had always been susceptible to stress, and even a bad cold could make her late by a week.

But no. It wasn't stress, and she hadn't even _known_, hadn't guessed it was remotely possible. Kal-El came from another galaxy, he was a completely different species, there was no reason to suspect. She was pregnant with his child, the scion of the House of El grew in her belly. All of a sudden the weight of duty she'd borne for the last year seemed light compared to this new responsibility. _And Kal-El didn't even know._

Still reeling, she saw her father's lip curl up in a sneer. "So don't give me any lip about how hard you've worked, Lo."

That was it, and her bewilderment flashed over into rage. "You know what? _Fuck you_. This isn't from one of the other hostages; this is _Kal-El's_ child. This baby is half Kryptonian. How the hell did you think I got half my information and brokered that alliance and got onto the first ship home? _He trusts me_. Absolutely. Kal-El loves me—"

She saw the look in his eyes, the stunned horror giving way to calculation, and snarled, "—and I love him, too, so don't you _dare_ think of using this baby as leverage. Kal-El and his group are our allies, and I won't let you try to manipulate him."

"There won't _be_ a baby," Sam growled back, his eyes stormy. She could almost read his mind then, her spine turning to ice as the meaning became clear. _No daughter of mine is having some alien's child—some alien with whom we are **at war**._ In that, the father and the general were in perfect agreement.

Understanding the motivation didn't take the chill out of his next words. "You'll see the medic in the morning." On that note, Sam turned and left, slamming the door behind him and making no attempt to hide the noise of the lock.

Breathing heavily, she stood staring at the door, a small panicked part of her brain still running in circles yapping, _Pregnant? No, no, I can't be pregnant, I can't be, I'm not ready for this, not ready for any of this!_

And then Lois stilled, the deep steel in her nature—which came from both sides of her family tree, the determination to fight and the will to hang on—at last brought to the surface by the pressure she was under. "We'll see about _that_," she promised.

* * *

**ETA: As much as I know all of you are excited, no, there's not going to be any deviation in the posting schedule. The only way that would be fair to the readers that only read the LS-verse would be to double-post for you guys and then double post for them. And no one wants to not get to read their favorite for a month. Sorry, but it doesn't make things fair. :(**


	33. Memorizing the Footfalls of the Past

**Yep, it was still coming this week. So worn out from things going on lately, this guy's late because I could think of what the hell to call the chapter! *headdesk* Yeah, it's like that. Enjoy, all!**

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Kal-El stayed occupied with many things; he had become one of Jhan-Or's chief assistants in the Society, running errands and making arrangements. From before dawn until late in the night, he facilitated the continued exodus of the humans in any way necessary. He was constantly having clandestine meetings, and then having legitimate meetings to cover for those. He also had to maintain his respectable reputation as one of New Krypton's foremost authorities on humankind, so he still had to do research and publish his findings.

All of that should have filled his time, and then some, but what Kal-El primarily felt was an echoing emptiness. The loss of Lois kept hitting him like a physical injury. He had no means of contacting her at present; they had discussed it before she left, trying to find _some_ way to keep in touch. But the proxy servers by which Kryptonians viewed Earth's internet would likely log any attempt to set up an email account, and neither of them could take the risk of being tracked. Contact was too dangerous, for both of them and for all the other humans. Once they were all returned to their own planet, perhaps then … but Kal-El already had hopes of being appointed ambassador to Earth after the revolt.

He was young, still, and not so much involved in the actual _rebellion_ side of things, so his ideas of the revolt and its aftermath were vague. Kal-El's chief concern was the humans, and as much as possible he left the politics up to Jhan-Or and the others, who had the talent and patience for it. With a little luck he and his house could escape the worst of the upheavals.

Besides, most of his attention was taken up by grief. Quite frankly, Kal-El pined for Lois. A dozen times a day he turned to ask her opinion of something, and the lack of her struck him again each time. Every morning he woke up alone, uncomfortable in his own bed, missing the odd comfort of her Earth-style bed. Unfortunately, he couldn't bear to sleep there without her beside him. Lois' absence was even more obvious in that bed where they'd talked and cuddled and made love so often.

And every night he found himself staying awake later and later, occupying himself with tasks better left to the morning, all to delay the moment when he had to retire to his empty bed. How strange, that he who had once abhorred touch like a proper Kryptonian now missed it so deeply. Lois' fingers laced through his, the warmth of her body fitting neatly against his own when they lay on their sides together, the softness of her hair under his cheek: each tiny sensation haunted his dreams.

And the dreams themselves were the worst. Kal-El routinely woke up from dreams where Supreme Chancellor Zod had stepped down, the Science Council had established peace with the humans, and Lois had returned to Krypton, treated like a true guest this time instead of the cruel mockery of being a hostage by any other name. Some of those dreams even ended with the announcement of her marriage into the House of El, a wedding that would broker a lasting peace between their people—and no one needed to know it was a love match as well.

Only once did he dream that Lois hadn't yet left, that the days since she'd gone were the dream and the reality was her amused smile and loving look. Kal-El had thought he was adjusting to her absence, but waking from that dream proved him wrong. Putting a hand out to stroke her flank, and finding only the empty bed, the loss was as fresh as if she'd left only moments ago.

The crystal he wore hidden beneath his robes was no comfort. To Kal-El it had become a symbol of Lois' captivity; small wonder that he'd cast it off her, the night they first went to bed together. Kal-El soon gained an understanding of how Lois had felt, wearing it day in and day out. It was an anchor around his neck, constantly reminding him of what he'd lost just as it had surely reminded her that she was a prisoner.

At least he'd freed her. There was that, and it soothed his soul a little. Lois was no longer a captive, at liberty amongst her own kind once more. His missing her was selfish, in its way, but it was alloyed with a sense of righteousness at having released her. Someday they would be together again, he promised himself. On equal standing, as it should have been all along.

The only thing that gave him peace was standing under the stars at night, looking for the bright yellow gleam of her sun, Sol. No matter the distance between them, if they could see the same star, he felt a little closer to her. Using telescopic instruments didn't feel the same, though he could actually see Earth if he did. No, only looking up with his eyes alone brought that feeling of connection, as if somewhere Lois too was looking up and wondering how he fared.

Sometimes Kal-El would track that star's progress across the night sky until his neck ached from craning his head back, and he would suddenly realize he'd been lost in thought—lost in memory, really—for hours. Those were the nights he would stumble inside and fall into his lonely bed for a few hours of restless sleep strewn with fragmented dreams.

He always woke feeling haggard and somehow thinner, as if he'd stretched himself too far. But there was work to be done and Kal-El could not be seen to falter. He dared not attract too much attention. That could only lead someone to question where Lois was.

…

Kal-El may have been disinterested in politics, but politics were not disinterested in him, especially not when he had grown closer to Jhan-Or. He spent much of his time with the older man, and it should not have surprised him that Jhan-Or had been carefully evaluating the chances of taking Kal-El into his confidence.

A few days after the first group of humans left, Jhan-Or invited him over to the laboratory. Kal-El knew he had been studying some of the organisms the humans had brought to Krypton with them, and other microscopic creatures of Earth. Once he arrived, he dutifully looked at the images Jhan-Or had taken.

"…And this one, which humans once considered a pest for it spoils some of their primitively-preserved foods, is now used of all things for cosmetic injections to erase the signs of aging. To think of it, one of the most potent toxins known to them, being put to such a use," the older man was saying.

"Fascinating," Kal-El replied, though he honestly found it anything but.

Jhan-Or moved on to another image. "This one naturally competes with other microorganisms. Certain strains are considered a pest when their growth causes skin disorders, and others are used to brew beverages and bake bread. Had we any such thing as this, we could have defeated the great plague that drove our people to practice such stringent sterility."

Kal-El blinked. "But you said this organism was a pest."

"I said it _can_ be. It naturally exists in competition with all the legions of creatures that humans carry on and in their bodies. That competition allows them all to survive without harming the host, for no one species dominates to the point of stripping the host's resources. It is only when the system falls out of balance and one kind ascends that the host begins to suffer." Jhan-Or cut Kal-El a significant look at that.

"Balance is essentially to most systems," Kal-El replied.

The biologist nodded. "Including democracy. It is not the dominance of one faction whose ideals are more correct that the rest that provides peace. It is the compromise between all of the varying viewpoints that results in overall harmony. No one gets precisely what they wish for, but all are more content than they would be otherwise."

"An interesting parallel," Kal-El said, knowing where this was going. He honestly could have left all the politics aside, but if Jhan-Or wanted to confide in him, it had to be important. So he asked a leading question. "Then what is to be done when the system becomes unbalanced?"

"Rebalance it, by reducing the strength of the dominant faction," Jhan-Or said lightly. "The trick, of course, is to find the most selective means of doing so, without harming the rest of the system and causing further unbalance. Broad-spectrum measures cause too much damage to the overall system, and therefore a targeted approach based on the dominant element's weakness is safest."

Kal-El mused on that, and Jhan-Or waited, watching his eyes. Sometimes the younger man felt as though Jhan-Or could see his thoughts as they flickered through his mind. "Open, armed revolt against an unbalanced government would be the broadest of broad spectrum measures," Kal-El finally said.

"Precisely. It is to be avoided if at all possible," Jhan-Or said serenely.

There was one problem with the path of logic down which he was being led. "What weaknesses are to be exploited in our situation? Our leader is an experienced tactician and perhaps the finest military strategist our people have ever produced."

Jhan-Or laughed at that. "Oh, Kal-El, you are _so_ young. All men have weaknesses. The only difficulty is to discover what they are, and I assure you I had Dru-Zod's identified before I ever began this."

Kal-El badly wanted to know what that was. He could just barely conceive of coming into direct conflict with the Supreme Chancellor, whose authority was virtually limitless and whose power came from quite literally having an army at his disposal. If Kal-El could only know that Dru-Zod too was vulnerable, it would have reassured him greatly. As things stood now, the former general seemed omnipotent and indestructible.

Of course Jhan-Or would never part with such information if asked directly. Kal-El tried to think his way around the problem, and remembered how Jhan-Or had silenced Tar-Kon at the last meeting of the Society. Was it blackmail, then? Surely that was the most selective way of dealing with the Supreme Chancellor: force him to resign or see his darkest secrets revealed.

But what secrets could Dru-Zod possibly be concealing? Kal-El didn't realize he'd spoken the question aloud until Jhan-Or beside him chuckled, "Perhaps you shall see, young Kal-El. But not this day."

…

Life moved on, whether Kal-El wanted it to or not. The very day after his revealing conversation with Jhan-Or, he was invited over to dinner at his parents' house. Lara made a point of inviting Lois, and Kal-El felt horribly guilty when he lied and said she was ill. His mother had always been kind to Lois and was trying to include her, so rejecting the offer—even for a plausible reason—just felt _wrong_. Furthermore, he wanted Lara of all people to know what Lois meant to him. She alone might understand the depth of love he felt. But he couldn't risk anyone outside the Society knowing that Lois was no longer on the planet, so he made excuses and hoped that his mother didn't feel as though her acceptance was being snubbed.

It turned out that Lara had more important plans for the dinner. Kal-El arrived to find that his father wasn't home, and that Alura and Kara were. "It is a pleasure to see you both," he told them, smiling in spite of the surprise.

"And it is a pleasure to be here," Alura replied, though her smile was strained. Kal-El wondered how much pressure she was under, with Zor-El all but publicly demanding revolt. He would not ask, however.

Kara seemed entirely disgruntled, and as they sat down to dinner Kal-El tried several unsuccessful gambits to draw her out. All of them failed, Kara stubbornly pouting and giving him monosyllabic replies. She stared down at her plate, giving him only her blonde curls to talk to and never raising her eyes to his.

"Are you well, Kara?" he asked.

Instead of answering, she told him, "I am glad you did not bring your human. She is strange."

"Manners, Kara," Alura corrected gently.

"Of course she seems strange to you. Lois is from another galaxy," Kal-El reminded her. "I think that you remind her of her sister."

Kara wrinkled her nose and stared at her plate. "I am _nothing_ like a little human girl." He smiled sadly; he had the feeling that Lois' Lucy was quite a lot like Kara, right down to the stubbornness.

Alura and Lara both tried to entice her into conversation, and met with no success either. Finally, Kal-El tried the one thing that had always animated his young cousin in the past. "How go your studies, Kara?"

At that, she looked up, and he met a hard blue stare full of a child's uncompromising fury. "They would go better if the other children did not call me the traitor's daughter," Kara spat.

"Kara Zor-El, I told you I will not have that sort of language," Alura retorted, her voice hot with shame … and a touch of fear.

"It's true!" Kara cried out. "Father does not even come home most evenings anymore. When he does come home, he barely speaks to us. Everyone knows he will not stop talking about rebellion, and the only reason he has not been arrested is because Jor-El is Supreme Chancellor Zod's friend!" Tears stood in her eyes by the end of it. Kara might not know all the ramifications, but she knew that her father getting arrested would be a Very Bad Thing.

That outburst set all of them back in utter shock. Kal-El looked over at his mother, and Lara looked back at him. He suddenly saw the signs of strain in her, new lines of worry at the corners of her eyes, and wondered if she was keeping secrets as burdensome as his.

"Kara, you do not know the entire story," Alura was saying. "Your father is a man of great conviction—"

"I just want my father!" Kara insisted, and then began to cry.

The habits of emotional restraint and composure were infused into all Kryptonian children from an early age, and such breakdowns were rare even among the youngest. Generally a tantrum would be met with silence tinged with disappointment, as no one wanted to reward or encourage such behavior.

But that evening, as Kara sobbed disconsolately, Kal-El could not bear to see her fear and grief go uncomforted. Without thinking, he put a hand on her shoulder, and Kara turned to him, leaning against his side. Such a thing simply did not happen.

Nonetheless, Alura rose from her seat and embraced her daughter, one arm around Kal-El's shoulders. On the other side of the small table, Lara got up and hugged them all. Kal-El had no memory of being hugged by his mother, but at that moment it was the most soothing feeling he could imagine.

"It's going to be all right," Lara whispered, and none of them dared to contradict her.


	34. Entrapped Within a Rare Tempest

**Good morning, all. Those that haven't received the news otherwise, due to a death in the family and a trip scheduled next weekend, ATU is not be posting on schedule in two weeks. _Love and Other Headaches_ will be posted before we leave next Saturday [10/27] and we'll be back to _Across the Universe_ on the following Saturday [11/10].**

**We actually have something big we're planning on writing for you guys while we're off for that week and it's been a fan-request for this 'verse. Even on vacation, we'll be writing plotting and planning, but there will be no chapter. There's just not time in the schedule for it, as much as I wish there was. As I'm about to start the holiday season as a Customer Service Lead in a large department store, I'm going to need all of the relaxation I can get. I hope you all understand.**

**That said, we'll see you next weekend and then in two weeks for the next chapter of _ATU_! Now, enjoy!**

* * *

General Sam Lane knew his daughter was furious with him. From her point of view, he probably looked like a heartless, autocratic sonofabitch. Well, that was fine with him. He had no intention of letting his daughter carry some alien's bastard just because of some misguided and likely Stockholm syndrome-inspired emotions. Lois was _seventeen_ after all, she couldn't seriously mean to _keep_ this child. Not with who the father was, not even if she imagined herself in love with him.

Sure, Lois hated him right now, but that was nothing new. He'd weather it as he had weathered all her other temper tantrums. He knew what was best for her and for their family. Once Lois got her head right, she might even thank him for making sure her little problem was taken care of before it became a big problem.

Still, he knew being there would make things difficult, so he sent an officer to take Lois down to the medic. Maybe by now she'd realized that this was going to happen, and that it was for the best overall.

Sam lost himself in reports; it was incredible how much paperwork the Army generated, even if a lot of it was paper only in name these days. Constant surveillance on the salt-mining operation, detailed profiles of all personnel involved as well as the hostiles, and now the notes from debriefing each of the returned hostages.

All of it kept him occupied for over an hour. By then, he should've had a reporter from the major he'd sent to escort Lois to medical. Disgruntled, Sam sent another officer to check on the first. If Lois was causing a problem in the infirmary … well, if she had to be sedated for the procedure, then so be it.

A few moments later, the young lieutenant burst back into his office. "Sir, we have a situation," she said gravely.

Why was he not surprised to hear that? Lois would be the death of him. "What kind of situation, lieutenant?" Sam snapped.

At his gruff tone, the young officer paled and reverted to a boot-camp habit of throwing as many 'sirs' as possible into a statement in a vain attempt to avoid offense. "General Lane, your daughter was not in the infirmary, sir. I checked her room, sir, and found Major Francis tied to a chair. In his underwear, sir. He says your daughter knocked him unconscious and stole his uniform, sir. I sent him to the medic for his head injury, sir."

A few years back, a medic had told Sam brusquely that if he didn't learn to relax, all the stress he put himself under would eventually cause a massive heart attack. The medic had also told him that for a man his age, fit, in good health otherwise, sudden major cardiac arrests were called 'widowmakers', because the survival rate was very low. Sam had, of course, argued; with his position, he couldn't afford to be mellow. 'You can stay torqued up all the time and die young, or you can let the pressure off once in a while and live to see your kids graduate,' the medic had said bluntly.

That visit, and the consultations that had followed, were why Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out while counting backwards from ten. Probably baffled the lieutenant, but he didn't give a damn about her right now. _Calm down,_ he told himself, and pictured the one thing that always grounded him: Ella's face, the way her mouth turned up at the corners in a lovely smile.

Right. Thirty seconds of that to steady himself, thirty seconds of calm. That was all he could spare. Now he could be furious with his wayward daughter again.

Sam's eyes snapped open and fixed the lieutenant with a hard, brilliant glare. "Get a squad out checking the fences," he snapped out. "And another to search every truck and plane on this installation. _Thoroughly_. Get someone to call after every plane that's left this morning to have them searched on arrival, too. She's got an hour's head start on us."

The young woman looked momentarily nonplussed. "Sir, this is a level six restricted zone. With all due respect, sir, do you believe a teenage girl could've gotten outside the perimeter already?"

Sam laughed, a strange mix of pride and exasperation in his tone. "You obviously don't know my daughter. Unless we're lucky, she's already gone. Hop to it, lieutenant!"

…

While her father was barking orders and sending men scurrying to find her, Lois was already in the air. The fatigues she'd stolen from Major Francis were a poor fit, but she managed with some judicious rolling and stuffing to look only disheveled. She'd known she was on a tight timetable, and further knew that her father would tighten the net around her as soon as he discovered her missing. So she'd jumped on the next cargo jet leaving the base, not even caring where it was headed.

For the moment she was secure, wrapped up in spare netting between two pallets of crates of used and damaged equipment being shipped back for refurbishment and replacement. Lois snuggled down, trying to stay warm in the unheated cargo bay, and plotted her next move. Wherever she landed, she'd have to get off base _immediately_. If she was lucky, that would be in the States, but it didn't really matter. Lois had lived on base in Germany, the Philippines, and Gibraltar. She knew a smattering of enough languages to make herself understood almost anywhere. As long as she landed in friendly territory, which this cargo plane was certain to do, she'd be all right.

Sighing, she laced her hands together over her belly. It felt so strange to think that life was growing in there, even now, even while she plotted her daring escape. Right now cells were dividing—hell, she didn't even know how far along she was. A tiny heart might already be beating in her womb.

Lois hadn't planned for this; it shouldn't have been possible. This was the worst possible time for a pregnancy, too. She was just a teenager, the father didn't even _know_ and he was on another _planet_, and her world was essentially at _war_ with his. Lois knew she wasn't ready to be a mom. Especially not this way. Knowing all of that, what her father had suggested was really the practical choice.

But Lois wasn't practical. Not where Kal-El was concerned. This was _his_ baby, too, and she wouldn't have made a decision like that without him. Honestly, from the moment her father had told her she was pregnant, having an abortion wasn't even an option in Lois' mind. After all, who knew when or even _if_ she'd see Kal-El again? With this child, no matter what happened she would have a piece of him with her, always.

Now she just had to see to it that they both stayed safe. And the best way to accomplish that was to do _exactly_ what her father didn't want done. _As soon as I get off this plane, I've got to find the biggest newspaper in town…_.

…

Perry White stared at the teenage girl across from him, who'd just told him the most incredible story of his long and colorful career as a newsman. She looked right back at him levelly, her hazel eyes steady and sharp. This one was hard as nails, he could tell that much by the way she carried herself, and it lent credence to her tale.

When he'd walked in that morning and found her in his office—despite the fact that the building was still officially closed—she'd told him it was a wild story, one he probably wouldn't believe, but she had to try. The public deserved to know what was really going on. At that point Perry had taken her for a kook, but he humored her. For one thing, she'd gotten past security to get in, yet she was just a kid and hardly threatening. For another, she made a decent cup of coffee, and drank it black like he did. Perry kept a coffee machine in his office for convenience—it was too much trouble to send an intern to the break room every half hour, and they managed to brew it both too weak and too bitter. The girl, however, brewed a cup he could not only stomach but savor. That alone would've bought her the indulgence of listening to her tale.

When he asked her to spill it, though, she'd demurred. "I need your help," the girl—Lois Lane, she had a name like a street sign—had told him.

"What kind of help?" he'd asked, wary.

"Shelter. What I'm going to tell you is highly classified information, and the Army is already looking for me. I can't stay ahead of them long on my own." That was the classic quack story, 'the government is after me', but she'd said it quite calmly, with none of the usual paranoid glances over the shoulder. And the crazy ones usually went for FBI, CIA, maybe even NSA these days—no one picked the _Army_ as the shadowy government agency stalking them.

"I'll see what I can do," Perry said, interested in spite of himself.

Lois had opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated, biting her lip. "I … I don't know where to start," she'd confessed.

"Begin at the beginning and keep on going until you run out of things to tell me," Perry had said, sipping coffee and growing more intrigued by the minute. The crackpots were usually all too willing to talk, but this girl was almost making him work for it. Odd … unless she was telling the truth.

It had taken her a little over two hours, starting from the Kryptonian invasion almost a year ago and running up to the present moment. During that time other reporters and staffers arrived to work, but Perry waved them all out of his office, engrossed in the girl's narrative. Once she'd gotten started, Lois spilled it all, an almost cathartic run of events and details that were delivered with a journalistic frankness and clarity which Perry couldn't dismiss.

In any other circumstances, he wouldn't have believed a word of it. A slim teenage girl telling stories about journeying across space, being held captive on another planet, becoming involved in the resistance against their alien jailers while at the same time befriending her captor? And then, with the assistance of said captor, building an alliance with malcontents among the aliens and working her way home, only to find herself a veritable captive of the very military she was supposed to be aiding—the one in which her father was a Vice Chief of Staff? It sounded like the plot of a wacky science fiction novel. No, it sounded crazy.

Except … _she_ wasn't crazy. Perry would've bet every penny he had and quite a few he didn't that this girl was utterly sane. Since she wasn't nuts, then the story couldn't be, either. And everything dovetailed with what he knew about the salt mining operation and the military ramp-up around it. All the little details matched, down to the clothes she was wearing—too big because she'd stolen them out of an unattended dryer at a coin laundry to replace the conspicuous stolen fatigues she'd been wearing when she got off the cargo plane she'd stowed away on.

"Can you hang around a bit while I check on a few things?" Perry asked her. "I've got a conference room you can use. Might even catch some shut-eye while you're there. And I'll see about something to eat, too."

"Yeah," she said, hunching up a little in the oversize sweater. From the look in her eyes, she maybe thought he didn't believe her. It was a mistrustful look, one that said she hadn't expected kindness and didn't trust anything that seemed like it.

This was the kind of story that would rabbit on him if she thought he was gonna call the cops, so Perry put a hand on her shoulder as he stood up. "Listen, kid, I believe you. You're either the most important person walking around Metropolis today, or the best damn liar I've seen, and I've covered the political beat. So I _believe_ you, okay? But the first rule of journalism is _always check your sources_. Hang out here, I'll have someone get you a sandwich, and I'll make some calls. _Don't_ skate out on me, Lane. You're right, you need some help, and I know people who can keep you safe. So come with me and then just stay put for an hour or so, all right?"

"All right," she said, with a warmer smile.

On an impulse, he snagged a blank composition notebook out of his desk. Half the younger generation never used them anymore, typing every damn thing, but he always liked taking notes in long-hand. Perry handed Lois the notebook and a pen, and said, "If you remember anything else you think might be useful, jot it down. I don't wanna miss an _ounce_ of this story, you understand?"

The way her eyes lit up at that told him he'd just scored a win for the third estate. Perry ushered her into the conference room, sent an intern to get her breakfast, and asked one of his sharpest reporters to keep an eye on the conference room door just in case she decided to make a run for it.

And then he got down to business, calling up everyone he knew who might have information on the mystery girl. Starting with recent photographs of Lois Lane, daughter of General Samuel Lane, just to make sure she was who she said she was.

Within the hour, he'd learned enough to know the story checked out. This was gonna be the story of the century, hand-delivered to him by Lois Lane. Hmm, alliterative, it'd look good in a byline, and she had that hard-hitting delivery he liked in a reporter—except she was seventeen, he couldn't have hired her anyway. Although he'd have to give her credit somehow. None of his embedded journalists or investigative reporters had been able to crack _this_ story, and instead one of its major players had come straight to them.

_Gotta thank the good old United States Armed Forces for having a base right upstate. If the plane she was on had refueled anywhere else, I wouldn't have gotten this headline dropped right into my lap._ And then he froze in the act of walking back to the conference room, his mind spinning.

Perry had been thinking of this strictly as a story. Now he realized what he was dealing with was a matter of national—no, _planetary_ security. He _couldn't_ break this story on the front page. As much as people the world over needed to hear that progress was being made and the hostages were being returned, Lois had mentioned that the Kryptonians were actively monitoring the internet. How long would it take for Zod and his cronies to realize what was going on? That could jeopardize the Resistance, both human and Kryptonian. And publishing the whole tale would risk the lives of all the hostages still on New Krypton.

Making the story public would make Lois safe, because she'd be an instant celebrity. The Army wouldn't dare drag her off to a barracks somewhere once the whole world knew who she was. But Perry was betting once she knew the wider consequences, she wouldn't want to break the story, either. She had friends on New Krypton still.

He walked more slowly into the conference room, thinking hard. Maybe, just maybe, he had a solution. Lois was still there, having devoured a large sub _and_ a salad. "Well, Lane, your story checks out. But you knew that. So now I have a problem." He laid it out for her, and she frowned.

"I can't go public yet," she said immediately, just as he'd suspected. "Not until the rest are back home, and maybe not even then. But when things change on New Krypton, then you can tell the world who the real heroes are—and that not all of them are human."

"Right on. I know how to sit on a story when I have to, kid," Perry said, nodding. He liked her integrity and common sense.

Her face fell then, and Lois looked very much like the worn-out teenager she was. "_Now_ what am I gonna do?"

"Well, I had a few ideas," Perry said. "I've got a friend in Congress, a real stand-up guy. Midwest farm stock, honest as the day is long, no idea what the hell he's doing on Capitol Hill with the professional liars. Someone up there _needs_ to know just what's going on, because I bet you the news of the returning hostages hasn't made it far out of the White House war room. And this guy has connections. He'll know where to hide you, and who he can talk to."

"Who is he?" Lois asked warily.

"Kansas senator name of Pete Ross," Perry said. "He's good people, I promise. Until I can make arrangements with him, you can hide out at my place. I've got a spare room, and until we break the story there's no reason to suspect you were ever here."

Lois nodded slowly. "Good. Because there's one more complication I haven't told you about, and it's not in here, either." She tapped the composition book lightly.

Perry raised a skeptical eyebrow. She'd waited 'til _now_ for this tidbit? "Oh yeah? What is it?"

The girl took a deep breath and nervously tucked her hair behind her ears. "My friend? Kal-El?"

"The one they sent you to, the one who started this whole Benefit Society thing," Perry said, gesturing at her to spit it out already.

Lois blew out a breath, and actually blushed. "Well, uh, he's … kinda more than a friend."

_Oh, hell, he's not __**here**__, is he? Please don't tell me she expects me to break her boyfriend out of Area 51! There's only so many miracles I can pull outta my hat!_ "Oh really? Sounds like that's more your business than mine," Perry said with gruff nonchalance.

She winced. "Well, it's gonna be your problem, and Senator Ross' problem too soon enough. I … I'm pregnant. With Kal-El's baby. He … he doesn't know. And I don't know how far along I am." Saying that, Lois scrunched down in her chair in a little ball of misery.

"Great Caesar's ghost," Perry muttered. That was not _at all_ what he'd been expecting!

For a moment he could only stare at the girl and blink. Well now. That made her decisions and her urgency a whole lot clearer. Her four-star daddy couldn't be happy about this little bit of intel, either. "Huh. Well, you're right, that's gonna make it interesting. But if anyone knows how to hide you _and_ the baby, it'll be Pete. Besides he's a sucker for a sob story."

Lois tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. "You're not gonna yell at me about how depraved I am?" she asked.

Perry snorted. "Kid, I operate strictly on a live-and-let-live policy where stuff like that's concerned. But I gotta say, it's a good thing you didn't lead with the I'm-having-an-alien-baby angle. I'd've kicked you out for sure, no matter _how_ good your coffee is!"

At that, he had the satisfaction of seeing the girl laugh.

* * *

**Footnote: Since several people have remarked on this, yes, Lois is drinking coffee while pregnant. Yes, the authors know that caffeine should be limited or eliminated during pregnancy. However, not everyone follows best practices all the time, and Lois is not perfect. Besides, it's not as if Lois is chugging a fifth of whiskey while chain-smoking. Both authors wonder why pregnancy is one of those things that bring out the "you shoulda" response in people from all walks of life. Also, the coauthor's mother drank coffee AND smoked during her entire pregnancy, and coauthor turned out just fine. Don't worry, Lois' baby will not be born a caffeine addict.**


	35. Reflections on a Turbulent History

**Another rush to the finish. But this is important stuff you guys are going to need coming into the second half of the story here. Things are really going to start changing up soon, so try to remember what you're seeing here. Any detail could be important. ;)**

* * *

Dru-Zod was, mostly, a man of logic and reason, but intuition spoke to him as well. He always paid careful attention to the quiet voice in the back of his brain. So far he had found reasons to obey it after the fact, and he trusted that phantom voice when it did speak. Usually it was no more than a whisper, a suggestion.

For the last few weeks, there had been a steady murmur underneath all of his thoughts: _something is not right_. Dru-Zod was a calculating man, and he pursued the hunch along multiple avenues, yet it proved frustratingly vague. Everything seemed to be going just according to plan.

One night, as he lay awake staring at the ceiling and chasing his own intuition along the pathways of his mind, the murmur of the under-voice rose to a declarative shout. Of course, _of course_ something was wrong! Everything _seemed_ to be going as expected, and he was wise enough to know such things never happened. Even the Science Council, though they were broken in spine and tooth and will these days, had been giving him less trouble of late.

And what could be the reason for such an unexplainable good fortune? Something _was_ going wrong, somewhere a secret was being kept, and everyone involved was trying not to attract his attention with even the slightest mistake. Dru-Zod smiled to himself in the dark, a ruthless baring of teeth.

Once, on Krypton-that-was, he would have waited for the dawn to go hunting for the discrepancy, but whoever was behind this was intelligent enough to hide their conspiracy very well. Time was of the essence, and he would not have gotten a full night's rest anyway. Dru-Zod rose from his bed and sent a coded message to his second-in-command before dressing hurriedly.

On his way out, he heard his wife stirring in her own room, and paused in the hall. She did not question him, however, and he moved on without speaking. Volunteering information, even to one he could supposedly trust, was simply not among Dru-Zod's habits. As for Faora, she was accustomed to him keeping odd hours.

His people were not violent like the humans; even with vocal dissidents among them, he had no need to surround himself with guards. He took the hovercraft to his office and began searching through the intelligence reports of the last month, searching for the discrepancy he _knew_ had to be there.

Ursa arrived moments later, uniform sharply creased and perfectly poised as always, but there was a lambency in her dark eyes that told him she was game for the hunt. "General?" she asked, as always ready for his orders.

"I find our government and society operate too smoothly of late," he replied. "This suggests to me that a conspiracy is afoot and seeks not to draw my attention by minor disagreements. We must find the conspirators and discover their aims." Of course there had to be a plot to overthrow him—there had always been such, from the moment he assumed power. The question that absorbed Dru-Zod's mind was whether such a plot had a chance of succeeding.

"It shall be done, General," Ursa said. "Shall I bring in the traitor Zor-El for questioning?"

"Not yet," Dru-Zod replied. "Zor-El still serves as the bait by which I may lure in larger game."

"A son of the House of El in defiance of you is already quite a prize," Ursa pointed out. Her tone was controlled, but he knew her well enough to see the frustration seething beneath it. Ursa could not tolerate anyone betraying him; he alone commanded her loyalty, and she was as zealous a devotee as he could wish.

"Patience, my dear," Dru-Zod told her, laying one hand over hers. She stilled at that gesture, looking up at him silently. "We will strike down Zor-El when the time is right. For now, though, I am more concerned with what hides behind the shield of his obvious rebellion."

"Very well," Ursa said. "Should I assume you wish me to continue to hold harmless his and his brother's families?"

That gave him pause. Could the root of his troubles lie within the House of El? It would not be the first time they meddled in the greater affairs of Krypton. But Dru-Zod saw no threat in Alura and Kara, nor in Lara and Kal-El. Jor-El, _he_ might be an actual threat, but Dru-Zod believed he had the man thoroughly cowed. "For now. I am aware of Kal-El's participation in this … Benevolent Society, which is a thinly-veiled conglomeration of human sympathizers, but it is no threat. Jhan-Or is its chairman, and I have him under control."

Ursa nodded. "Still, if there is trouble, it may start among the humans and their hosts. Shall I begin by personally reviewing the Bureau of Human Affairs?"

"Yes, as soon as possible," he agreed. It would be best to have the eyes of someone he trusted in that establishment; the domestic security personnel that staffed it were lackluster at best.

Ursa inclined her head. "You will is my command, General." With that she was gone, off to wake the unsuspecting Bureau. Dru-Zod had no doubt that if there were any discrepancies, Ursa would find them.

For himself, he would review all the intelligence communications of the past month, with his current suspicions in mind. Surely something there would spark that little thread of intuition that nagged him.

But instead he found his attention pulled away from the reports by reflections upon Ursa and her undying devotion. Dru-Zod reminded himself that the woman was, in many respects, his own creation. Little wonder, then, that she was perfect in so many respects.

Ursa's history was checkered; her own family would no longer acknowledge her in any case, but Dru-Zod remembered that it was _she_ who had sundered herself from them first. She had few choices, once separated from her family's support and resources, and so attempted to enlist in the military. The results of her admittance tests went directly to General Zod for review, for Ursa was an exceptional case. Her intelligence was high, her various aptitude tests well within desirable ranges, and she appeared to have a high capacity for loyalty, but her psychological profile was cause for doubt.

It seemed to hint at disturbing flaws—a rebellious, confrontational attitude, an irrational dislike of men, and a tendency to question authority. Furthermore the simultaneous biofeedback scan indicated she had been anxious, or attempting to lie, during certain questions. That dishonesty was a strong indicator that the flaws uncovered were only the first hint of deeper problems. Perhaps she even harbored an abhorrent tendency toward violence.

Rebellion against authority in the rejection of her family name, a damaged psyche, and dishonesty under questioning—under normal circumstances, someone like Ursa would have been denied a place in the Consulars on the grounds of temperamental instability. But since attaining his rank Dru-Zod had begun to change certain policies. No more was a candidate rejected simply because of personality flaws.

He had argued to the Council that military service, with its insistence on discipline, could bring order to a disorderly mind. Was it not the duty of a progressive society to help its miscreants conform? Was it not better to induct such individuals into the controlled military environment, where their wayward tendencies could be redirected, rather than allowing them to pursue their own inclinations and eventually become criminals? Was it not much simpler to prevent borderline individuals from making such a mistake, rather than rehabilitating them once they had crossed that line?

The Science Council had granted him leeway to review rejected candidates, and his project had been successful several times before her profile came to his attention. Ursa had caught his attention as a personal challenge, seeming at first to be an exceptionally poor fit for service. She detested men, and more than half the military were male. She rejected authority, and the military relied upon obedience to orders. Yet she had applied, and there was that hint of strong personal loyalty—it had only to be _earned_ to be unlocked. If Dru-Zod could redeem _her_, the Council would never again question his wisdom.

The then-General Zod had dictated certain changes to normal procedure regarding Ursa. Most importantly, he had carefully positioned her within the ranks so that all of her commanding officers were female. She advanced swiftly, and though she was domineering to the men under her command, she was intelligent enough to keep her contempt under control and out of their notice. The structure of military life seemed to appeal to her, and she tolerated its authority because she grew to understand the necessity for it. Under General Zod, it was not the hopeless bureaucracy it had once been, but an efficient organization whose rules and restrictions existed to guide and protect its members.

In a short time for one who had nearly been rejected from service, Ursa reached a level wherein she reported to Dru-Zod directly. Soon he had placed her in charge of the Consulars, whose chief function was enforcing military law amongst its members. As one who had herself defied authority, Ursa was adept at seeking out those who broke the rules, and even the long-constrained violence simmering in her nature became an advantage instead of a curse in her new role. When she arrived to take a traitor into custody – for all transgressions against military authority were by definition betrayals of the Council's authority with which those rules had been enacted, and thus treasonous – a single glance into her furious dark eyes quelled any idea of resistance or further rebellion.

What Dru-Zod had not expected was the way those eyes turned to him. Ursa knew by the time she assumed command of the Consulars that he had seen the flaws within her, and had positioned her so that she might make use of them for the greater benefit of Krypton. Reporting to him, she saw that cold logic underpinned every order he gave; he was never capricious, never wielded his authority for the mere sake of doing so. Yet he was never over-cautious, striking decisively when circumstances warranted it. As such, he became the first male of their kind to earn her respect.

And he had never betrayed it. Not for the sake of sentiment, though. Ursa's success contributed greatly to his own, his star rising in the council. The military rejects who statistically tended to end up in rehabilitative facilities now led productive, well-adjusted lives thanks to his intervention, and she was the most visible of all his successes. Only Jor-El expressed caution that General Zod's ranks were seeded with the potential for destruction, and the rest of the Science Council had waved his concerns aside. In those days Jor-El was still known to be a dreamer, a misfit himself, and the council did not always pay him heed even though his brilliance outshone his eccentricities. Dru-Zod had cultivated him further, deepening the friendship that already existed between them by appearing to take Jor-El's warning under consideration in spite of the Council's dismissal.

Of course Dru-Zod did not cease his project; it had always been his intent to have these aberrant members of society within his own sphere, where he could manage them—and use them, if necessary. And Ursa was key among them. He extended his confidence to her, and she repaid him with the ferocious loyalty that had lain untapped within her for so many long years. His trust in her was not feigned, for she would have detected and detested that. Dru-Zod allowed himself to depend on her, and she reached her full potential rising to meet the challenges he set for her.

He had planned to receive her allegiance, but had never expected the level of devotion she showed him. Ursa sometimes looked upon him raptly, like a devotee of Rao gazing at the red sun's dawn on the solstice morning. It was at that moment that he had realized just how obsessed she had grown; it was possible that she even believed herself in love with him.

Dru-Zod knew he tended to have that effect upon men and women alike, enthralling those with whom he chose to associate closely. So self-contained, composed even in a crisis, always keeping his power and authority coiled tightly around him, never flaunting either, never sharing his thoughts except at necessity, Dru-Zod did not seek out allies, instead drawing them inexorably toward him. Jor-El had once compared him to a black hole, from which not even light was swift enough to escape. And Ursa had fallen victim to his gravity.

He had proceeded cautiously, careful not to damage her devotion; it was too priceless an asset to be handled casually. Doing so had served him well in the revolt. Ah, those days of fierce clarity and constant action—at what a terrible price. The fate of their _world_ was at stake, and the Science Council had chosen to ignore Jor-El's warnings. He had been ordered to cease discussing the matter, and obeyed reluctantly, seething in silence. The House of El did not suffer such wrongs lightly, though as Dru-Zod saw the situation, its sons lacked the courage to redress them at times.

His fellow scientist Non-Ek had not accepted the Council's command. Defiant, he had gone among the people to warn them of the danger. Some believed him, some debated him, and most ignored him. Krypton-that-was had become a complacent civilization, unable to believe that the sun they relied on for power could betray and devour them. When at last Non-Ek had incited a riot, the Council called upon its General to deal with him.

Dru-Zod still rued the day he had sent Ursa to arrest Non. He had not believed that soft group of old men calling themselves a Council would do more than chastise the scientist, and perhaps send him to a rehabilitation center where psychotherapy and medication would help realign him with reality. And that had been what happened—at first. The then-General had put the matter aside. Not even the revelation that Non had been repudiated by his house and stripped of his family name had occasioned much concern. He had greater problems to worry about.

Or so he thought. One day Non reappeared outside the city. He had been underweight and filthy from apparently living in a cave. Most of the populace saw that on the news broadcast, and assumed he had gone mad. Unsurprising, really, given the way he had clung to belief in the false apocalypse he and Jor-El had invented. The official word from the Council was that he had escaped from a rehabilitative facility and was clinically insane.

Ursa, however, had noticed that the once-brilliant scientist had sported a new and ugly scar on his forehead. Worse, he seemed incapable of speech. Dru-Zod investigated delicately, and uncovered a repulsive truth.

Non had never renounced his belief, no matter what therapies were tried, and it had become evident that he never would. So the Council had ordered a procedure performed that had fallen out of favor centuries ago, and had authorized surgery on the man's _brain_, the seat of his wit and soul. Destructive surgery, at that, with no proven medical value except in the case of severe seizures that, first, Non did not _have_, and second, were now treated with gene therapy. Even more blasphemous, it had not been enough to cut into his brain. They had also cut out his tongue, so that even if he had retained more than the most basic reason, he would not have been able to speak it.

Ursa and Dru-Zod had discussed the matter only with one another, in conditions of utter secrecy. They had independently come to the same conclusion: the Council would not have done that to a mere madman. Non was therefore _right_. And if so, then their own lives and the fate of their race were in imminent danger.

Dru-Zod had gone to Jor-El, whom he had been cultivating for some time; the House of El was prestigious, and allies within it were always valuable. Convinced of the General's sincerity and secrecy, Jor-El had told him _everything_, including his secret ship with which he planned to save his son by sending him to a distant, primitive planet called Earth.

Together, they had laid plans to overthrow the Science Council. Of course, events had not gone precisely as Jor-El expected; Dru-Zod had known better than to inform him that a certain amount of bloodshed would be necessary. His wife was a historian; Lara would tell him afterward how rarely a bloodless coup had ever been achieved. Jor-El would grieve for the losses, soft-hearted as he was, but his time would be filled by designing the transport ships that would save their people. Only Jor-El had the genius to accomplish that, when space travel had been forbidden study for generations. He was nothing if not an innovator.

There had been those who obeyed only sullenly, even up to the evacuation of Krypton-that-was. At that last moment, the new Supreme Chancellor had offered to allow any who wished to stay behind to remain on the planet—with the caveat that the ships would _not_ return once launched. By then, of course, the imminent doom of the planet had been widely broadcast. A few had taken him up on it, either because they denied the coming disaster or because they refused to accept his rule. Less than a hundred, all told, and Dru-Zod had not mourned them. They were that many fewer to provide for during the journey, and as intractable individuals there were of little use to him anyway. Still, he remembered how they had looked, all standing in the main square in Kryptonopolis as the transport carried him up to the flagship. He would not have admitted it to anyone, not even himself, but it galled him not to have been able to save even those reprobates.

All of those who had remained were gone. The death of Rao had been visible from the ships, even though they had been journeying several months. Dru-Zod had forbidden any contact with the home planet, and so there were no communications with the lost ones in the months before their doom befell them. Better that they were forgotten, except as a cautionary tale on the folly of denying Dru-Zod.

Tensions had of course arisen aboard the ships. It had been then that Ursa's many fine qualities came to the fore; she had been indispensable. She had moved from ship to ship at need, quelling the worst of the uprising, always being the sole individual whom Dru-Zod could absolutely rely on. When the oxygen converters on one ship had suddenly begun to fail in the middle of the sleep cycle, she had acted of her own volition to get Jor-El and his hand-picked team of engineers aboard that ship to repair it. Further, while they worked, with only Non beside her she had managed to hold back a frenzied mob threatening to overwhelm them and steal the shuttle. Everyone in the crowd would've been crushed trying to get to safety, but they had been wild with fear. Ursa had held them back by sheer force of will.

All of them knew she and Non were the Hounds of Zod, the physical extensions of his will; Non's mind might have been destroyed, but his enormous strength was not, and his loyalty to Zod was as fervent as Ursa. Meanwhile she was even more: his right hand, the one he trusted above all others. The mob that day had known that Ursa would kill them all before she allowed them to usurp the shuttle.

Rarely was she able to be on the same ship with him. The Supreme Chancellor needed her to act in his stead, not in concert with him, and he could spare her little time. Still, even seeing her exploits secondhand, Dru-Zod had sometimes wished that he had not married so young, at the urging of his House. Given the opportunity, he would have granted Ursa a name greater than that of the House she'd been born to…

Those were not thoughts he could entertain, not given the stresses they had all survived aboard the ships or the situation they now found themselves in. The political landscape was perilous, and he could not afford to let his attention wander. Dru-Zod shook himself, and returned his full attention to the reports.

Wherever the traitors hid, it was only a matter of time before he found them and sent his hounds after their trail.


	36. Many Miles to Go Before I Sleep

Lois woke up to Perry White shaking her shoulder. "C'mon, kid. Get up and get yourself outside of some breakfast. We've got a long day ahead of us."

For a moment she could only glare at him blearily. She had never been much of a morning person, and for the last week she hadn't had to get up early. Lois had been sleeping in Perry's spare bedroom, and the editor was kind enough to make her breakfast and set it on her bedside table before leaving for work each morning. Sometimes Lois didn't wake up until the coffee was cold. Sleep was a welcome relief and retreat from everything in her life, and in the absence of the intense pressure she'd been under on New Krypton, it seemed like all she wanted to do was sleep.

Perry jerked the pillow out from under her head and thwapped her shoulder with it. "Up and at 'em, Lane. My friend from Congress got back to me. He wants to meet in person. You've got half an hour to get ready."

_That_ woke her up. "Holy shit! I need more than half an hour to get ready for that! Jeez, what's _wrong_ with you?" Without waiting for an answer, she bolted for the bathroom.

Twenty-five minutes later, Lois jumped out of the shower and scrambled to get dressed. Perry had managed to get some clothes for her, just the basic necessities—sweaters and jeans and underthings—so it wasn't as if she had to choose an outfit. And her story was going to be more important than her appearance. Still, it wouldn't do to go meet a senator without at least brushing her teeth first and trying to tame her hair.

She dove out of the bedroom and Perry met her with a bagel and a travel mug of coffee. "Fastest I've ever seen a woman get ready," he remarked with a smile as Lois grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

Lois just glared, sipping the coffee and taking a bite from the bagel. "So what's this guy like, anyway?" she asked as they headed out. Perry locked up his apartment and they headed down to the garage.

Perry looked thoughtful as the elevator took its sweet time. "Senator Pete Ross is one of those Midwestern originals. Has integrity and character and all that good stuff. His family's been in Kansas since the Freedmen Exodusters in the late 1870s, and his wife's family goes back to the 1850s when the state was first opened to settlement. He's conservative enough for the old boys, and progressive enough for the college kids. Sensible guy, and smart enough to be suspicious of the rest of Capitol Hill."

"Hmph," Lois replied, her mouth full.

The editor just shot her a look. In the garage, he walked over to his parking space, where a white '73 Impala gleamed in the dimness. Lois perked up at that. "Holy shit, that thing is a _boat_," she marveled.

"She's a beauty," Perry said, patting the car's fender as another man might've patted his wife's hip. He opened the passenger door for her. "Hop in. It's a long ride to Baltimore, but at least we travel in style."

At that, Lois hesitated. "Baltimore? Not Washington?"

"Fewer people would recognize him in Baltimore. Plus it's an hour off our drive. Get in, Lane, time's wasting." Perry scowled at her gruffly. Lois might almost have believed he was as impatient and irascible as he seemed, but this was the man who made her breakfast every morning. And that wasn't even taking into consideration the nightmare she'd had the first night she stayed at his apartment, the one that was growing familiar, where she woke up back on Krypton the morning before she was scheduled to leave. Perry had brought Lois an extra pillow and then sat up watching—and mocking—late-night talk shows with her until she fell back asleep.

The drive to Baltimore should've been relaxing, the big classic car eating up the miles smoothly, but Lois' head buzzed with tension. She'd been safe enough staying with Perry. What if this Congressman agreed with her father? What if he turned her back over to the Army? Legally, she was still a minor, and General Lane had to be at his wits' end trying to find her. It would be so easy for this man to just turn her in.

By the time they arrived at a quiet little restaurant, her stomach was in knots. Lois walked in stiffly, scanning the patrons at each booth, wondering which one was the senator. Nobody looked that much like a politician….

The man who looked _least_ like a politician was the one who stood up and offered his hand. Dark-skinned and baby-faced, he had a brilliant smile that seemed far more genuine than anything Lois had seen from a career politician. She started to feel better about this meeting already. "Good to see you," he said to Perry, and then shook Lois' hand too. "Pleased to meet you, miss."

"Thanks," she said, and took her seat. A waiter arrived immediately to take their orders; this was a simple Italian restaurant, with pizza and pasta dishes and complimentary garlic bread knots at every table. Lois picked something light, just fettuccine alfredo, while the two men had calzones.

"So, I hope you don't mind if I just call you Lois, considering the situation," Pete said.

"Not at all, Mr. Ross," Lois replied. The last thing she needed was for someone to hear her called Miss Lane. For the same reason, she didn't call him Senator even though that was his proper title.

"Please, it's just Pete," he insisted. "Now, Perry outlined the story for me, but I'm sure you know an old newspaperman like him doesn't give away _everything_. I'd like you to give me the rundown in your own words, if you don't mind."

Lois grinned. "I can go one better." With that, she took out the composition book Perry had given her, which had never left her side. The first few pages were a rambling mess, but she flipped to where she'd set things down in chronological order. She'd done it mostly to keep her own mind straight, but it was useful here.

Pete took it and started reading. Gradually his amiable expression faded into something more serious and thoughtful, and when his food came he pushed it aside. Lois picked at her fettuccine, wondering if she'd put in _too_ many details. The account was almost ten pages long, both sides.

Beside her Perry attacked his lunch, saying nothing. At one point Pete stopped and looked up at Lois somberly. "Has anyone told you that you are an incredibly brave young woman?"

"Well, um, Mr. White did," she said, caught off guard.

Pete shook his head. "Ridiculous. They should've given you a medal instead of locking you up."

"Keep reading," Perry advised.

A few minutes later Pete's eyes went wide. "You're _pregnant_?" he whispered.

Lois could only nod. The churning in her stomach was back. "About two months, I think, but who knows how long it'll be, considering the father."

Pete leaned back, staring at her. Not in a judgmental way, Lois thought. More like open amazement. "Does he know?"

"I didn't know before I left, and there's no secure way to reach him. Given his culture, if his people found out he'd be labeled a deviant, so I can't risk telling him. Right now he _needs_ the support of the Benevolent Society to get things done, and he can't accomplish that if he's the scandal of the year." Lois shrugged; she'd been over it in her head a dozen times, trying to figure out how to let Kal-El know he was going to be a father.

"Damn," Pete muttered. He stared off into the middle distance for a few moments with a thoughtful expression, then seemed to shake himself. He handed the notebook back to Lois. "I've got some ideas, but let me eat this while it's still warm, and then we'll get to it, okay?"

"Sure," she said, tucking it into her shoulder bag.

The three of them finished the food accompanied only by small talk about the weather and sports teams. Finally, Pete set his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together, looking steadily at Lois. "So this is the way I see it. Perry can't break this story until the humans are all back on Earth, because if he does Zod's regime will _definitely_ be alerted. But the military obviously knows you're missing, and considering your critical role in all of this, and the fact that your father is the Vice Chief of Staff, they're going to be diverting all the resources they can to finding you. What you need most right now is someplace to hide, at least until we can go public with the story."

"Right," Lois agreed.

"It's not safe with Perry. You went to his office in broad daylight. Sooner or later the MPs are going to track you to the Daily Planet and start leaning on him, wanting to know where you went. You're going to need to go somewhere they won't look for you, someplace where they wouldn't expect. DC's out, there are too many people there who do nothing but watch what Congressmen do. All it would take is one bored reporter, one observant intern, heck, one maid to notice you. An attractive teenage girl hanging around a squeaky-clean family-values Senator? That'd be all over Twitter too fast for us to contain it. It'd be worse if we kept it under wraps for a while, because you're going to start showing soon."

Lois blinked. She hadn't thought of that angle; she'd been thinking Pete was leading her toward the idea of staying with him, and it did make sense. Staying with Perry might've felt like an escape from real life, but it was only temporary, and every day that she stayed in Metropolis was just asking for the MPs to find her. If the story had been published, they'd have already had her. Apparently no one had thought of her going to a newspaper and the editor-in-chief having sense enough to sit on the story.

"You're right," she finally said. "So what are we gonna do?"

Pete smiled. "I've got an idea, but it's gonna be tough. You have to trust me, because I can't say anything in front of Perry. When—not if, _when _the Army gets around to questioning him, he has to be able to honestly say he has no clue where you are. And that means you have to decide if you trust me enough to walk out of here with me without knowing where you're going. I promise you this, the Army won't have a clue where you are, and it'll be safe."

Lois gnawed on her lip. Pete certainly seemed okay; she couldn't sense any threat from him, and her skills at people-reading had gotten much better during her time on New Krypton. Also, Perry trusted him, and Lois had the idea that Perry didn't trust many people.

She found herself looking to the editor, who had finished his meal and was leaned back in his seat. He glanced over at her, and to Lois' surprise the older man actually seemed regretful. "Well, I guess that's the way it has to be, kid. Tough break, but you're tougher. You can trust Pete. And I'll look forward to meeting your daddy and telling him his baby girl has more balls than he does." With that, he grinned fiercely and reached out to rumple her hair.

The gesture startled a laugh from her. In just a few days Lois had grown to like the curmudgeonly editor; he'd become a sort of honorary uncle. There weren't many people, at least so far as she knew, who would drop everything and open their home to shelter a fugitive from the military. Especially not one whose story couldn't even be published for weeks, maybe months.

"All right," Lois finally said. She'd been trusting to instinct and intuition for so long that this wasn't as big of a leap as it would've been a year ago.

The two men settled up the bill, and then all of them headed out to the cars. Perry mused aloud, "I've got a cousin in Overlea. I'll drop by and visit, shoot the breeze for a while. If anyone asks, that's where I went today."

"Good deal," Pete said, and shook his hand. "Thanks, old man."

"Yeah, yeah, I only went to you 'cause you're secretly a softhearted liberal," Perry teased.

"My constituents prefer 'compassionate conservative'," Pete corrected with a grin.

Perry put a hand on Lois' shoulder, and his expression softened. "Take care, kid. And come back to Metropolis when you can. I wanna hear the rest of the story."

"I will," Lois said, and impulsively hugged him. Perry made a scoffing noise, but patted her hair gently.

She did _not_ cry. Lois Lane wasn't a crier, no way. The wind just got in her eyes a little bit as she got into Pete's car, a late-model Hyundai Genesis. "Hand me my phone, would you?" Pete asked gently. "It's in the glove box."

"Sure," Lois said, and passed it over.

He fired up the ignition and let the car warm up while his phone dialed. Pete left it on speaker, so Lois heard the woman's voice when she answered. "Hello, honey. How was your meeting?"

"Good, very good," Pete replied. "Lana, love, I've got a situation here. Can you meet me at the Hillandale exit off the beltway? And pack for a trip?"

"Sure. Where are we going?"

"I'm not. You're going to go home. I can't talk about it on the phone, but this is about that business we talked about last night."

A pause, and then, "Oh. All right, I'll be there in about an hour. Think you can hold out 'til then?"

"I'll survive," he chuckled. "I love you."

"I love you too." With that he hung up the phone.

Lois had watched curiously throughout the call. "So you're sending me off with your wife. Where's home?"

"Smallville, Kansas," Pete said. "The Lang family home out there is sitting empty right now. You'll have space enough, and no one will guess you're there. Plus no one in town will know who you are. We'll pass you off as a friend of the family or something. We sure can't pretend you're a relative. Not too much of a family resemblance, and genealogy's a major hobby in a small town." Pete grinned at her, and Lois grinned back.

"Sounds like a plan," she said.

"You'll love Lana," Pete said confidently. "Everyone does. She's a peach."

…

About an hour later, Pete's car turned off the beltway and pulled into a strip mall parking lot. By then, Lois had found time to get nervous about this meeting. She was about to get into a car with a complete stranger for an eighteen-hour trip. What the hell had her life come to, anyway?

Not only that, she had another stranger to worry about—the little stranger in her belly, the one she was risking everything for. Lois found her hand resting on her stomach more and more often lately, tracing the slightest curve beginning there.

Pete parked next to a dark green Mercedes S350. The driver's door opened, and the woman who got out was a sharp contrast to Pete. Slender, red-haired, and extremely fair, she smiled at the sight of her husband. "Hey, sweetheart," Pete said, coming around the car and opening his arms. She hugged and kissed him before turning to look at his passenger.

Lois had been sizing her up the whole time, wondering what this woman's deal was—and not getting a clear reading. If she could drop everything and drive to Kansas, she probably didn't have too important a job. And the redhead was beautiful enough to be just a political trophy wife. But the way Pete held her suggested theirs was a love match.

When they broke apart, the redhead turned to Lois and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Lana, Pete's wife," she said. "I guess he told you we're going on a road trip?"

"Lois Lane," she replied, shaking the proffered hand. "And yeah, he briefed me."

"Well, good. At least one of us knows what to expect. All I know about _you_ is your name, where you just got back from, and that you need our help hiding out." _At least she's honest,_ Lois thought. Lana smiled, though, and it was one Lois couldn't help returning. "Although, it's an eighteen-hour ride back home, so we'll have plenty of time to catch me up."

"Hon, as much as I wish I could stay—" Pete began.

"I know. We're too close to the Capitol to hang out in the open. Lois, hop in. Do you need anything before we get rolling? I want to try to make Dayton tonight, if we can, and it's a long ride."

"Nope," Lois said, taking a deep breath. _Here we go_, she thought. Her world was about to change yet again.

Pete kissed his wife and squeezed her tight, and then they were sliding into their respective cars. Lois reclined her seat a bit, and as Lana turned the ignition on, Garth Brooks came from the speakers beside her.

Lana caught the fleeting frown that crossed her lips, and chuckled. "Not a fan of country?" she asked.

"Not really," Lois said. Great way to start off, insulting the woman's taste in music. Then again, she was from Kansas, so it was expected.

"Well, if you want to change the channel, be my guest," Lana said easily.

Lois reached for the tuning dial and hesitated. Back in the before, she had usually listened to whatever irritated her father the most; acid metal, sometimes. She couldn't see this woman putting up with that—or rather she could, Lana suffering womanfully the whole time. "Honestly I haven't really had time to listen to music in a long time. It's different on New Krypton."

The redhead pressed a button and silenced the radio. "Then I suppose it's just as well we have a lot to talk about. I'd really like to hear the whole story from the beginning. Assuming you're comfortable with that, of course."

"I might as well," Lois said with a shrug. She had to tell the tale so as not to blow anyone's cover, but she was beginning to wonder just how many times she'd have to tell and retell it. At least Pete had been able to read it, but Lana couldn't read and drive at the same time.

Lana glanced over at her, and Lois took a deep breath. Just thinking about how different her world had been a year ago was mind-blowing. "It all started on the day the Kryptonian ships came. I was in school, just bored in class thinking about Scotty Bracewell and his sweet car, and then the fire alarm went off…."


	37. Enmeshed Deeply Amongst Conspiracies

Okay, kids, you get an extra-long one this time after our plotting session last weekend. My flu is finally starting to back off and inspiration is really coming back. Thank God. Enjoy, all!

* * *

Supreme Chancellor Zod had ordered the salt mining operation increased so that it now ran without stopping—twenty-four hours a day, as the humans reckoned time, twenty-eight by Kryptonian measure. That was a boon to the Benevolent Society, as the increased shipping schedule made it easier to send more humans home. At this rate the exodus would be complete in half the time.

And then it would be time for Jhan-Or's plots. Kal-El had learned finally patience in dealing with the older man, and no longer asked things of him even indirectly. So he was thoroughly surprised when, as they were going over a list of humans scheduled to leave the next day, Jhan-Or asked _him_ a blunt, direct question.

The question itself was only a little less shocking. "Tell me, Kal-El. When the time comes for revolution, will you be with us?"

For a moment he could only gape. "I … Jhan-Or, even to speak of such…."

Jhan-Or replied with a touch of heat in his tone, the first Kal-El had heard from him in their entire association. "I do not wish to hear your father's caution, Kal-El, or your uncle's bluster for that matter. The coup may be accomplished quietly, but your mother could tell you such things are rare. If it comes to making a stand, on whose side will you be? Or will you cower at home? To make no choice is a choice of itself."

Kal-El realized his mouth was gaping like an Earth fish, and shut it. He could do no less than to give Jhan-Or the courtesy of serious consideration. If it came to open rebellion, he _certainly_ wouldn't be standing with the Supreme Chancellor and his Consulars. But could he endanger himself and his House by taking the rebels' side? And again, if he chose to simply stay out of it, would that not be cowardice?

His father's remarks about Jhan-Or recalled themselves to mind. The older man was a career politician, and he had never been discredited or fallen out of favor. There was always someone else who took the blame, a younger, more passionate, less cautious individual at the forefront of all Jhan-Or's schemes. Was this the moment when Kal-El was being selected for that same role?

And even if it was, even if the responsibility for the Benevolent Society's actions came to rest on his own shoulders, was it not _right_ that he should do so? To quail now at the thought of possible consequences was simply weakness. Kal-El would have made the same choices, or bolder ones, in Jhan-Or's absence. So he could not shirk his responsibility now. The cause against Dru-Zod was not the one closest to his heart, but he had come to believe they could never have peace with the humans while the Supreme Chancellor remained in power—and therefore he would never see Lois again.

"I can only do what is right for my people," Kal-El finally said, his heart heavy. This choice had been long in coming, but he could no more refuse it than he could have refused to help Lois find her way home. "I will stand with you and the rest if it comes to that, Jhan-Or."

"I hope it will not, but if it must, I will be glad to know you are beside us," the older man said, clasping Kal-El's shoulder briefly.

Kal-El returned the gesture with an ironic smile. "I suppose this means you believe I've developed sufficient discretion to be trusted?"

Jhan-Or chuckled. "Kal-El, I have watched you grow into your maturity this last year with as much pride as a father. But letting me force a statement of commitment from you is not evidence of your discretion."

He could only sigh at that. The amount of denial and deferment and overall disingenuousness that politics required was not at all to Kal-El's taste. Before he could get too disheartened, though, Jhan-Or spoke again. "I do have reason to believe you are more capable of keeping a secret than you once were."

That sounded as if he knew more than Kal-El wished him to, and he looked at the older man warily. But Jhan-Or only motioned for him to follow, and walked into his laboratory.

This place had fascinated Kal-El from the moment he first saw it; unlike his father's quiet, ordered space, Jhan-Or's biological studies and experiments sometimes moved and twittered—and not merely the animals. A bush of the susurrus-flower family grew in a large pot near the door, and the slight draft occasioned by opening it set its bells to chiming sweetly. A number of small creatures native to Old Krypton were also preserved here, brought over in stasis or as embryos. A young quaking quarn hanging from a free-standing perch shuddered when Kal-El looked at it, glow-moths moved their wings lethargically in the annoying light, and a pair of iron beetles busily climbed about their cage.

Those examples of the lost world's flora and fauna existed side by side with specimens from New Krypton. Tiny shoots of the purple grass grew in a tray, and Kal-El saw that Jhan-Or had already bred them into both redder and bluer variations. He also saw some of the small flying pollinators of this planet, which Lois had once claimed reminded her of bats. They hung upside-down from the roof of their cage and huddled together, waiting for the dark.

At the far end of the room was a large tank of water, and Jhan-Or approached it, tapping the glass twice. The creature inside was one Kal-El had never actually seen in the flesh before, but when it poked its vile head out of the rocks, he automatically stepped back. "Is that … is that a _fish-snake_?" he gasped.

"Schoolchildren call it a fish-snake, but it is neither truly fish nor snake," Jhan-Or remarked. "The more common name is needle-maw eel."

The beast deserved either moniker, and it swam in slow, undulating curves before the glass, looking at the two Kryptonians with what appeared to be cold disdain. Its narrow mouth hung open, unable to close completely because of the long, thin teeth jutting up from the lower jaw. Its body was longer than the width of Kal-El's spread arms, colored a dull mixture of browns and grays, perfect camouflage among rocks or in caves. As it swam it unfurled fins that flashed brilliant red, with black-rimmed white spots. Atop its head was a long feeler of sorts, with a bright pink flap that fluttered when the feeler was raised.

"Tell me, Kal-El, what do you know of this creature?" Jhan-Or asked. He moved his hand slowly outside the glass, and the eel followed it, unblinking eyes fixed.

"They are venomous, bearing a poison so potent it could kill a hundred men," Kal-El answered, watching the hypnotic sway of the fins. "They are also ambush predators that lurk on the seafloor or in holes among rocks, and attract prey with the lure on their heads."

"All true. They are also quite slow, the fins being more of a warning to foolhardy predators and a means of display when competing for mates than a practical swimming aid. Hence the venom. They cannot escape a larger hunter, and cannot chase wounded prey." Jhan-Or was still moving his hand, seeming to have entranced the eel.

"Why do you have such a thing?" Kal-El asked, still feeling an instinctive revulsion. The eel was not pretty despite its colorful fins, its gaunt head bony and its jaw undershot. He had seen the tank before, but never the animal it contained.

"I have raised this one since she was a tiny elver no longer than your hand, Kal-El. I kept her in stasis for the journey here, and she resides in my lab as she always has. I call her Dhokhasha."

The name was clearly taken from the Kryptonian word that meant 'wraith'—or 'demon'. "Why?" Kal-El finally asked.

"She guards my secrets," Jhan-Or said, and smiled. "The needle-maw eel is a creature of fresh water. She will die if salt pollutes her tank. Such pure water is also an ideal environment for storing information crystals."

Kal-El's jaw dropped. "In her cave? But how could you place them and retrieve them? Her venom is lethal, and those jaws penetrate our armor!"

"That, I shall not tell you," Jhan-Or replied. "Only know this. If something happens to me, and you must retrieve the information that will force Dru-Zod to step down, it is contained in a red crystal inside her cave. I am afraid you would have to kill Dhokhasha to obtain it, and she is the last of her kind—no embryos were brought over from Krypton-that-was, and no male still exists. You are the last daughter of your race, are you not, my beauty?" He wiggled his fingers, and the eel mouthed at the glass, evidently eager to attack.

Kal-El swallowed nervously. "This information, what is its nature?"

Jhan-Or turned to look at him shrewdly. "You know that the Kryptonian cultural prohibition is weakening; I spoke of it to you once before. You may perhaps have concluded that some of the children born during the journey to this planet were _not_ conceived in a birthing matrix. A thousand years of isolation is crumbling, but the _idea_ is still abhorrent to the populace at large—though less so to you, I suspect."

His tongue froze in his mouth. _Jhan-Or knew._ Somehow he knew … or he guessed, and was watching to see if his words startled an admission of guilt. As blandly as he could, Kal-El said, "That is so. I have spent much time studying human culture, Jhan-Or, and as you mentioned then, my mother is a historian."

"Very true," the older man replied, with no hint of revelation or disappointment. "We hold our leaders to higher standards than ourselves, so even those of us who have committed that most final transgression would rebel at the thought of the Supreme Chancellor having done anything that approaches it."

He had thought his jaw dropped before, but that was only a mild startle. This was shock. It was one thing to be told such things had happened—and to have done them himself, though at least he could claim it was natural to Lois. It was another thing entirely to know that their _leader _had broken conditioning. How could the Supreme Chancellor be so foolish? And for evidence to exist of the act, that was absolute folly. "Dru-Zod and Faora…" Kal-El muttered.

"No," Jhan-Or laughed, his eyes bright—as brightly avid as the eel's. "And therein lies the secret that will break his hold. It was not his wedded wife, Faora, with whom such a thing might be excused under conditions of stress. The crystal recorders on the transport ship's airlock captured him kissing _Ursa_."

Such scandals happened all the time among humans, Kal-El reminded himself—and even in their world they had caused leaders to fall. To not only be shown as regressive degenerate, but to have committed such a transgression with someone other than his wife … Dru-Zod's credibility would be shattered. "It is done. His rule is over," Kal-El said, stunned.

Jhan-Or nodded. "Once that is revealed he will never again have the support of the people. But the military is fanatically loyal to Dru-Zod, and Ursa herself is the head of the Consulars. Never underestimate the charisma and ruthlessness of either of them. It is possible that, even if this were revealed, the military would yet support them. And only they are armed. That is a concern for another day, however. It is enough that you know now what must be done."

On that sobering thought, Jhan-Or moved a sliding panel and released a couple of small fish into the tank. Kal-El turned away before the eel could find her prey.

…

The next group of humans were boarding in secret, and Kal-El had volunteered to stand watch. If any Consulars approached, he could hopefully distract them long enough to let the Resistance members bolt to safety. It was risky, terribly risky, but what else could he do? Kal-El would not be able to face Lois again, who had run so many risks for him and for her people, without saying he'd done everything he could in the cause they shared.

Oh, Lois. Every time he thought of her, a pang struck him, like physical pain in the center of his chest. To have no news of her, to have to wonder what was going on, was a wound that did not heal. Kal-El knew that things were proceeding according to plan for the Resistance here on New Krypton and on Earth, but without her, no one trusted him enough to give him details.

That infuriated and depressed him by turns. By Rao, these people were suspicious of him when he had done so much for them! And yet, what else could he expect but wariness? He was the enemy. Nothing could change that. And over it all was the absence of Lois and the weight of her crystal necklace doubled around his arm. Though Jhan-Or had the means to keep them active without being worn, Kal-El preferred to keep Lois' necklace with him. It had been the symbol of her captivity while she was here, but now it was a memento.

The transfer had gone smoothly, and the group he thought of as the leaders of the Resistance—Huang, Geoffrey, Henri, and Gabriela—were about to depart. With thoughts of Lois fresh in his mind, Kal-El caught up to them. "Wait," he said quietly.

The looks on their faces as they turned wounded him. So careful, so closed, so obviously dealing with him because they _had_ to. How he missed Lois' welcoming smile, the brightness of her eyes!

"What is it?" Henri asked, moving slightly in front of Gabriela.

"Have you any word of Lois?" Kal-El asked, doggedly hopeful.

"She has not contacted any of us," Geoffrey said brusquely.

"So you've told me," Kal-El replied, his tone patient. "But you _are_ in contact with the Resistance on Earth. Surely they have some news of her?"

"Kal-El, we have nothing to tell you," Henri said, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"That is not the same as knowing nothing," he pointed out.

Henri and Geoffrey looked annoyed at that. Gabriela just looked watchful. Standing his ground, Kal-El met their gazes steadily. Finally Henri took a step forward. "Kal-El, please. We know nothing of Lois except that she made it safely to Earth along with the other escapees."

"Why are you so concerned?" Geoffrey asked suddenly.

Kal-El took a deep breath. Somewhere in the back of his brain a panicked little voice was calling, _Don't let them find out!_ Most of him, however, was striving not to be angry. _I love her, you fools, I __**love**__ her and I miss her and I worry for her. Stop looking at me like I should not __**care**__._ Still, he managed to keep his voice level and patient as he said slowly, "Perhaps you did not notice this beforehand, so I will inform you now. I consider Lois a personal _friend_. Her well-being is important to me. I have heard _nothing_ from her in weeks—which we expected, true. But I have heard nothing _of_ her, either. Her father is a highly-placed military advisor, and she was the first of the primary members of the Resistance to return home. I would have thought _some_ word would come to you, if not to me. And because I know that she and her father have not always had a harmonious relationship, because I know that living here was stressful to her, I am concerned for Lois' happiness after this latest upheaval."

Pausing there, he met each of their eyes in turn. Gabriela had softened, Henri looked thoughtful, Geoffrey disapproved, and Huang … Huang lifted one eyebrow just a bit, his eyes full of complicated things. Still, the young man did not speak, and Henri was the one who answered. "I understand, Kal-El. Lois is important to all of us. She—well, she is far more than the _mascot_ of the Resistance, but she has been a symbol as well as a determined reality. All of us have looked to her example these many months, and she has been an inspiration to many. We are all her friends, as well. I promise you, Kal-El, if I knew anything that could help, I would tell you."

"Thank you," Kal-El replied, with a slight bow that Henri returned. "I would hope that you would consider me a friend also."

"After all that you have done?" Gabriela broke in. "Kal-El, you are our ally and our friend, and you will not be forgotten."

He shook his head at that. "Not for my deeds. For the fact that I _am_ a friend to you and your kind. I do not seek to be remembered as someone who helped you in the hour of need, but to be known as someone who would like to see the day when we can all meet in equal partnership and amity."

"A pity no one brought wine," Huang mused. "I could drink to that day."

"I could as well," Gabriela chuckled.

They departed then, with a few last farewells, and Kal-El let them all get out of sight before following the path taken by Huang. He was unsurprised to find the young man walking slowly, waiting for Kal-El to catch up. He did not stop, however, and they strolled together quietly for several minutes.

"You truly care about Lois," Huang finally said.

Now Kal-El was on treacherous ground. He could not afford to have the Resistance mistrust him, not at this late hour, and if they discovered what would surely seem an ulterior motive in his relationship with Lois, they would doubt him. Yet if he didn't show his sincerity, whatever Huang knew would remain a secret. "Yes, I do," he settled for saying.

"I remember she told me once that you wanted to go to Earth," Huang mused. "I thought that strange, for what we knew of your people, but you _are_ something of a strange one, aren't you? An outlier among your own kind?"

He did _not_ like the flavor of this conversation. "I wouldn't say so," Kal-El demurred. Given what he knew about how microscopic organisms of human origin were now found on the skin of almost _every_ Kryptonian, and the further revelations Jhan-Or had made, his own behavior was not as deviant as he'd been led to believe. But if it were made public, it would surely be labeled perverse.

Huang chuckled. "Most of the members of the Benevolent Society like humans well enough. Surely we are all in much better circumstances than we found ourselves at the beginning, and you were integral to all of that."

It would be pleasant, in a way, to take the credit, but Kal-El did not. It was not truly due to him alone, and in fairness he could not claim a larger role. "It would have happened anyway. Kryptonians are not a cruel people, Huang, and you humans are obviously fellow sentient beings. I simply accelerated things."

"You were the first, Kal-El, to treat us as equals. You see Lois as a person first, and as an interesting alien life-form second," Huang insisted.

That stung a little. He remembered at the beginning, when he'd been so excited to meet Lois, and later to bring her home. Back then he'd thought of her primarily as a fascinating object of study. It had taken a little while of living with her to realize just how _wrong_ the situation she'd been thrust into really was, and just how cruel it was to confine her so.

When Kal-El did not immediately reply, Huang went on, "It is because you care for her that they do not tell you what they know. They think you will act rashly, and abandon our cause."

At that, his stomach turned to ice, and Kal-El wheeled to face the young man. "What has happened?" he demanded, his voice harsh. No matter if he was feeding into any suspicions Huang had, he needed to know, and swiftly.

"We do not know for certain," Huang said. "Lois arrived safely and was brought into military custody for debriefing. What happened after that is unclear. At some point she left the facility—without permission and without escort. The American military is now searching frantically for her."

Kal-El's brow furrowed. "Why would she run away?"

Huang held his hands up. "None of us know. The rest of the escapees were already released into witness protection programs. I was rather hoping _you_ knew something that might be helpful. Can you think of any reason she would run away from her own father?"

"They never got along," Kal-El said. Something else was tickling the back of his brain, but he couldn't quite grasp it. "I'm sorry, Huang. I don't know. At least I know now that she arrived safely. And, whatever Lois' reasons for running, I do know she can take care of herself."

Huang nodded. "It was a slim hope at best. She is brilliant, but impetuous. I will see you next week, Kal-El."

"Fare well," he murmured, and set off toward his parked hovercraft with a heavier heart.

…

The day was not yet done with Kal-El. When he got into his hovercraft, there was a message waiting from his mother, inviting him to visit. As busy as he'd been of late, he hadn't seen either parent in person for some time, though they had talked via holographic message. He sent a reply accepting the invitation and piloted his craft to see her.

As always, spending time with Lara was a relief. His mother's love was a balm to Kal-El's soul, and her gracious poise calmed his worry for Lois. For now, anyway. He knew he would spend many sleepless nights waiting for news of her, but in this moment, drinking Earth tea in his parents' house while his mother spoke to him of ordinary pleasantries, Kal-El felt comforting reassurance and relaxed into it gratefully.

Until Lara put her cup aside and looked at him seriously. "My son, you appear exhausted. Have you not been sleeping well?"

There was no sense in lying to her. As a small child Kal-El had sometimes been able to fool his father, but never Lara. "No, Mother, I have not," he replied with a sigh. "It is a transient thing; I shall soon be set to rights."

Lara smiled gently. "I hope so. A mother does not like to see her child worn thin by care. Whatever it is that troubles you, Kal-El, you know you can speak of it with me. Perhaps I can be of assistance."

Everything seemed to hit him then. He was a member of two conspiracies—at least they more or less overlapped!—at the same time that he was trying to cope with the absence of the woman he loved. His heart rose up in his throat, and to Kal-El's shock he found himself suppressing tears. As a little boy he had sometimes cried to his mother, but that show of emotion was improper for an adult, and he fought for composure. "Thank you, Mother, but these are matters in which I would prefer not to trouble you with involvement."

Awkwardly phrased, but she nodded. Lara touched the back of his hand for a second before picking up her tea again. "I understand. You are ever your father's son, Kal-El, taking responsibility onto yourself. I can only tell you that he felt quite the fool once he began sharing those worries with me, and realized they are poorly dealt with by one person acting alone."

"I appreciate the insight, but for now this burden is mine," Kal-El said. He expected her to ask after his growing association with Jhan-Or, to pursue the idea of political involvement causing his current distress. Kal-El was thinking up explanations for that when Lara asked a completely different question.

"How is Lois?"


	38. A Girl Made of Gunpowder and Lead

Lois knew she'd shocked Lana more than once during her recitation of the story, but damned if she was going to be embarrassed now. She kept her chin up and her gaze fixed on the redhead, wondering what the senator's wife would have to say. _And we still have another day on the road, plus who knows how long cooped up in Smallville,_ she thought. Lana didn't seem like the type to be scornful, but good Midwestern girls weren't known for being totally happy about unplanned teenage pregnancies even if the father was human.

"Wow," Lana finally said, and glanced over at her with a smile. "You've really been through the wringer, haven't you?"

Laughing at that understatement, Lois eased down a bit. "Yeah. Yeah, I have. I don't know if I'd change any of it if I could, though."

"The life you had before looks very different now, doesn't it?" Lana asked.

For a moment, Lois' tongue was tied. Her life _before_, school and tests and family stuff, all of it seemed somehow foreign now. She'd once found an old photograph of herself and Lucy, taken at the base school in the Philippines, just two blonde girls in t-shirts and shorts, the youngest one beaming, the elder staring. Sun and time had faded the black and white photo to sepia, and when Lois first saw it she didn't recognize herself or Lucy or the yard of the house they'd stayed in. Only when she showed it to her mother, and Ella exclaimed about the garden the previous tenant had planted, had Lois remembered the humid closeness of the trees that lined the yard, mango and kalamansi and banana, the thick plantings of ube shrubs, dragonflies humming in the bright tropical sun.

The past was a forgotten country. The girl whose primary ambition had been getting Scotty Bracewell to let her drive his car was now a stranger. The Lois of today was someone far, far different: a fugitive from alien captors and human authorities, with all manner of strategic military secrets stored in her head, and her lover's child growing quietly in her womb. She touched her belly thoughtfully. "Yeah. I … I don't even know if I could go back to the way things were before."

"I know a thing or two about outgrowing your old life. It's not always a bad thing." Lana reached over and took her free hand. After so many hours in a car with the redhead, Lois had figured out that Lana was a naturally touchy person, the sort who hugged her friends at each meeting.

Lois turned her hand over and squeezed Lana's hand, smiling wanly at her. "Still a mind trip, though." If she were honest, trying to think about the past and the present at the same time made her head spin. She still hadn't really thought about the future beyond the next day, the next week, the next month. Any further than that was a meaningless fog that made her heart race to contemplate it.

"That it is," Lana agreed. "Let me just say … I'm sure you know not everyone is going to understand what you've gone through. I can't pretend _I_ even do. But I know this: I'm proud to know you, Lois. And anything I can do to help you, I will."

For a moment she just blinked. Lana seemed like the classic conservative, ladylike Midwesterner, and she had been bracing herself for a quickly-hidden sneer or two. Lana had raised her eyebrows a few times, but that had been all, and that graciousness surprised Lois. Which was part of why she said, "I guess you're pretty surprised to be saying that to a pregnant runaway teen, huh?"

Lana laughed at that. "Well, I admit I was one of the good girls when I was your age, and I never dreamed of running away, but I think you had sound justification for everything you've done. And besides, you're not just a runaway teenage mom. You're also an intelligence agent, a freed hostage, an informant, a liberated military asset, and most importantly, one of our best bets to be an ambassador to New Krypton if they do succeed in a revolution."

Lois blinked. That thought had never even occurred to her. "Ambassador. Huh."

"Well, you know the language and the culture. And you'd have a good reason to go back," Lana pointed out.

Her hand drifted to her belly again and Lois looked down with a smile. "The worst part is, he doesn't even _know_. Kal-El and I never imagined it was possible. And he's over there doing his best to get the rest of our people safely home, and he has no idea he has a baby on Earth. There's no way to tell him, either."

Lana hesitated, and then said carefully, "Lois, I was brought up to believe that things happen for a reason. And you obviously love Kal-El very much, and he loves you back just as much. The fact that you're carrying his baby when you're from different galaxies is just more proof that you were meant for each other. And I don't think that … well, you might not want to hear this, but I don't think it's in God's plan for you to never see him again."

That threw her for a loop. Lois' family was mostly secular—the closest thing to a worship in her father's mind was his patriotism, and while Ella was a Methodist, she had never forced the girls to go to church if they didn't want to, believing they would find religion in their own time. She wasn't used to hearing people talk about God's plans unless they were radicals of some stripe. But Lana sounded completely sane and completely sincere.

"Not that I presume to know the mind of God," Lana added in the bemused silence. "I just think that, based on what's happened to you so far, you were meant to do great things, Lois. And this baby is part of that."

Stroking her belly, Lois nodded. "Oh yeah. She's gonna be important. Even I can tell that."

"She?" Lana asked, raising an auburn brow.

"Yes. I'm thinking of naming her Bridgette. That was my grandmother's name, Momma's mother."

"It's a lovely name," Lana told her. She glanced down at the dash then, and so did Lois. The fuel gauge was at a quarter of a tank, and the sun had gone down a couple of hours ago. "We're almost halfway to Dayton. What do you say we pull over, fuel up the car and ourselves? I need a chance to stretch my legs, and I bet you'd like one, too."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Lois agreed. Lana was a cautious driver, the roads were all plowed and salted, and the big car's smooth suspension and powerful engine ate up the miles. She could've napped, but they'd spent the time talking.

There was an exit coming up with several choices of gas station and food, and Lana put her turn signal on. "Besides, when we get back in, I'll let you in on one of the better-kept secrets of my life," Lana said archly.

"And what's that?" Lois immediately asked, but Lana refused to tell her. Frustratingly, she insisted on sitting down to eat, not being the kind of person who would munch a chicken sandwich while driving with the other hand. And then she sent Lois into the gas station with some money to pick up traveling snacks and bottled water to sustain her until they stopped for dinner. After all, Lois was now eating for two. Lois got back into the Mercedes still fuming impatiently.

"All right, all right," Lana laughed as the big car purred to life. "What kind of music do you think I listen to?"

Lois bit her lip, remembering she was from a town called _Smallville_ out in the middle of Kansas. "Um, you were playing Garth Brooks when I got in…."

"And I'll admit I own a Stetson," Lana said, still chuckling.

"You're a country girl," was all Lois could say, being as diplomatic as possible.

"Right. Now, my CD case is in the console between us. Pick whatever looks good to you." Lana smirked, and Lois knew something was up even before she dug out the CDs. This car had a USB port for an MP3 player, and she wished she'd brought hers, but she highly doubted Lana would like her taste in music.

What she found in the case surprised her. The discs of Garth Brooks, Bonnie Raitt, and Shania Twain were expected, but right next to them were Jim Croce, Fleetwood Mac, Kansas, the Eagles, America, and more. "Lynyrd Skynyrd? _Queen_? Wait, you like classic rock?" Lois said aloud, surprised.

"If I have to go to one of those interminable Capitol Hill parties, I always play _We Are the Champions_ on my way in," Lana informed her. "_Horse with No Name_ would be more appropriate, at one of those functions I _feel_ like I've been riding through the desert for a year and a half by the time we leave, but I need to psyche myself up."

"Yeah, just don't roll up playing _I Shot the Sheriff_ or anything. I think that'd freak people out, top 100 or not," Lois snickered, putting in some Eric Clapton.

Lana pressed the button for shuffle, and as they drove on both of them started to sing. By the time they stopped for the night Lois' throat would be sore, but she would've found what she needed most in the world right now: a friend.

…

_I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun, _

_Wait by the door and light a cigarette,_

_If he wants a fight well now he's got one_

_And he ain't seen me crazy yet._

_He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll._

_Don't that sound like a real man?_

_I'm going to show him what a little girls are made of_

_Gunpowder and, gunpowder and lead…_

"Gunpowder and lead," Lois sang, drawing out the last line, _drawling_ it really. Lana sang right along with her, pitch-perfect, and they both fell into laughter as the song went off. "Okay, okay, you were right. _Some _country is all right."

Lana smiled triumphantly. They'd mostly listened to classic rock the first day, Lois surprised that a girl from Kansas knew all the words to _Walk This Way_, much less _Sympathy for the Devil_. After spending the night in a nice motel and taking advantage of the free continental breakfast, she'd agreed to give some of the country stuff a try on their second day on the road. They started out early by Lois' standards, the sky still dark, and she figured she could sleep through it if she wasn't impressed. To her surprise, much of what Lana had on disc Lois actually liked, from soulful tunes to newer artists whose songs were tongue-in-cheek reversals of the crying-in-your-beer stereotype. She especially liked the mix Lana referred to as 'Don't cross a country girl', which included the Miranda Lambert song and one by Carrie Underwood called _Before He Cheats_. The songs there definitely struck a chord, even though Lois didn't see herself in any of those situations. The last thing she worried about was Kal-El cheating on her or raising a hand to her.

The sun was lowering, and they were still in Missouri. Lois read all the road signs out of habit, and startled at the one they were passing now. "California? There's a California, Missouri?"

"If we'd taken I-72, we would've seen the turnoff for Louisiana. And Mexico wasn't far behind us, the same exit as Fulton."

Lois shook her head. "Man, people around here have some weird names for towns."

"Wait until we get to Smallville," Lana told her with a grin. "First of all, it's _Smallville_. And then there's a town called Ellzey, after the Ellzey family—all of them moved to Smallville when the steel mill closed, though. We'll pass Punkin Center on the way. And there's a town a little north of us called Possum Trot."

She _had_ to be joking. "Possum Trot?"

"Possum Trot. It's right over the county line; ours was a dry county for years after the 1986 amendment that allowed bars to operate, and the nearest place to buy a drink was in Possum Trot. Women in Smallville _hated_ that town. If it wasn't your husband wandering off that way and driving home half-soused, it was your grown son—or your field hands going out on a Friday night with a week's wages in their pockets, and maybe not coming back on Saturday to finish the job because they were in the drunk tank on the other side of the county line."

Lois just stared at Lana like she was some kind of alien life form. She'd been born in Germany and lived on bases in Germany, Italy, and the Philippines, as well as Massachusetts and Oregon in the states, but she'd never experienced the heartland of her own country and all its quirks. The idea of a dry county had never entered her mind.

She was about to get another surprise. Lana glanced at the clock and frowned. "We're not going to get into town before the store closes, and there's nothing in the house," she said.

"Can't we just run up to Wal-Mart?" Lois asked.

Lana smirked. "The nearest Wal-Mart is half an hour away in Hartwell, and they close at ten. No, I've got a better idea." With that she muted the radio and put her Bluetooth headset in her ear to make call. "Hello, Silas," she said, with the warm smile that Lois was rapidly realizing was her default greeting expression. "I know, it has. Listen, I'm on my way into town but I'll be running late. Could you leave the store key in my mailbox? … Thank you, Silas. I appreciate it. … Probably a couple of months, anyway. I'm helping out a friend of Pete's. She needs the rest and relaxation. … Thank you again. I'll come in over the weekend to chat."

The moment she hung up, Lois asked incredulously, "The store manager will bring you the key and leave it in your _mailbox_? What the heck?" She barely remembered to swap 'heck' for 'hell'. Lana didn't seem like someone who would appreciate Lois' extensive vocabulary of English, German, and Tagalog swear words.

"Well, he _is_ my cousin," Lana said. "The Langs have owned Smallville Mercantile since it was opened. It's not like I'd steal from him."

Shaking her head, Lois muttered, "Just tell me Ward Cleaver doesn't live next door."

"No, we're not quite that bad," Lana laughed. "It is different from city life, though. You get to like it once you're used to it. The peace and quiet are relaxing."

That sounded boring to Lois, but she kept quiet as they drove. Within a few hours they were off the highway and driving down a two-lane country road, gravel spitting under the Mercedes' tires and Lana murmuring something about getting snow tires at the Carmichael garage. Lois saw broad fields covered in snow, smoke pluming from distant chimneys, and the occasional house with warm light spilling from the windows. The region looked like something Norman Rockwell might've imagined.

Lois saw the turnoff for Possum Trot, and then the big sign welcoming them to Smallville, Kansas, the creamed corn capital of the world. Lana turned before they got to Main Street, and followed a back road through neighborhoods where kids left their bikes in the driveway, certain they'd be there the next morning, and snowmen built in yards weren't knocked over or defaced. Finally Lana pulled up to a yellow house set back off the road, a lamp lit in a living room window. The redhead smiled. "Silas shoveled the drive and went inside to turn on a light. He probably cut the heat on, too. I'll have to take him and his wife to dinner this week."

Okay, so small-town interconnectedness had its uses. Still, as Lana parked the car, Lois hesitated for a moment. She was stepping into yet another new chapter of her life, and lately she'd felt like a pinball being bounced around by the whim of fate. There was one thing that hadn't changed, though, and Lois reached into her pocket for them.

While Lana fished a set of keys out of her purse, Lois carefully put the opal earrings in. Their fire caught the redhead's eye. "Oh, those are lovely," she said.

"Kal-El got them for me. These and the clothes on my back were all I managed to bring out of Hell with me," Lois said quietly, thinking of all the things she'd left behind on New Krypton. The glowing flower Lara had given her, most of her clothes, the books and other little things Kal-El had gotten to make her feel at home. Even the bed he'd made for her—the bed where their child had been conceived. All those things that did feel like a slice of home, now that she was flying blind into strange skies again.

"Well, those and the baby," Lana reminded her, and they shared a smile before Lana got out of the car.

Lois didn't follow immediately. With one hand on the door handle and the other on the curve of her belly, Lois watched the redhead walking up to the front door. That was when she felt it, the faintest of sensations, like a butterfly stirring in her belly. She looked down, startled, and the feeling came again.

The baby was moving. _Her_ baby, hers and Kal-El's. Lois could only take it as a good sign.


	39. To Gain the Force to Fight

**Here we are again, all. I suggest that everyone keep their eyes peeled during the next few chapters because this rocketship is taking off. ;)**

* * *

"How is Lois?" That question was the one he never expected. For a moment Kal-El could only freeze, caught utterly unprepared.

Lara tilted her head and her brows drew together. "My son, for months you have never failed to mention her every time that we converse. I sometimes feel I know more of Lois' daily life than I do my own son. And yet you have not spoken of her for weeks now. Is something wrong?"

He had been a fool, a thousand times a fool, for not thinking of this ahead of time! "Lois has … she has been feeling unwell," he stammered.

Lara drew back, her eyes wide, and asked sharply, "This sickness is not communicable, is it?"

Kal-El could have struck himself in the forehead for stupidity. Though he had, through exposure to Lois and familiarity with Jhan-Or's biological studies, come to a more relaxed view of health, the average Kryptonian still had a pathological fear of illness. The great plague a millennium ago had never left their minds, and it had been one of his mother's particular fields of study as well. "No, Mother, it is only a minor illness, and seems only to be transmitted among humans."

That seemed like brilliance on short notice; if they were questioned about the humans being sequestered, they could always claim a minor illness of the sort humans called a 'cold', a mere upper respiratory infection. It would also keep the Consulars out of their homes at even the suspicion of pathogens.

"If you are _certain_ it is not contagious, perhaps I should come visit her," Lara said.

"Mother, that would be unwise," Kal-El hastened to reply. "Lois dislikes being ill; she is no mood to receive visitors."

Lara only looked thoughtful. "In that case, you must bring her here when she is recovered. I do enjoy her company, and she seemed to return the feeling. It would be impolite of me not to invite her, after all."

_Now_ he was, as humans said, stuck between a rock and a hard place. He could not refuse an invitation on Lois' behalf without grounds, and yet he could not claim her supposed illness continued for more than another few days without it sounding like something serious enough to warrant contacting the Bureau of Health!

Something of his consternation must have shown in his expression, because Lara leaned forward worriedly. "Kal-El? What is it? Something more than mild illness has happened, for you to look so pale."

Trapped. There was no way out of this, so Kal-El took a deep breath and did what must be done. Unthinkingly, he covered his mother's slender hand with his own before he began to speak.

And then, after inventing an excuse to get them both into Jor-El's lab where the sonic generator would mask their voices, he told her all of it.

Well, _almost_ all—Kal-El left out the part about becoming lovers, but he did tell Lara the most important part of that: that he loved Lois.

…

In the end, after listening to her son talk for an hour, Lara just sat back and stared at Kal-El. Her son, her gentle dreamer, her soft-spoken and amiable son, was a poltroon—a collaborator in the most outrageous act of treason committed in the last century. Kal-El had allied himself with far wilier politicians than he was, and she already feared that Jhan-Or might shift the blame onto _him_. The charismatic scion of the House of El would make an obvious abolitionist, and would cause such scandal if revealed as a traitor that perhaps no one would look further.

And yet … those things did not entirely surprise Lara. Kal-El had seen a situation that went entirely against his personal ethics, and he had treated it as a wrong that he could not allow to go un-righted. No matter the danger, no matter the cost, he had done what was _right_. So very like his father, in that, the Jor-El of younger years having wagered all to save their people.

But such actions, though founded in the most intensely-held ideals, had repercussions that remained unseen until the fullness of time. For example, their current predicament. The strong leader they'd allowed to rescue them had become the very tyrant they now feared.

Lara could not help but tremble at the thought of her son caught up in such a volatile situation. Her mother's instincts demanded that she forbid him to continue, threaten to expose his involvement if she must to keep him safe. Lara was wise enough to know that doing so would not stop Kal-El, not as deeply as his convictions ran. All she would accomplish was the loss of his confidences, so she suppressed that first impulse.

While she thought through it all, Kal-El stared at her worriedly, his expression growing more sorrowful the longer her silence held. "My son, I am so proud of you," Lara finally said, her voice cracking.

That wasn't the response he expected, and Kal-El looked utterly stunned. The next Lara knew, he had hugged her. Lara hugged him back; she was his _mother_, after all, and he was her son. Societal propriety could be relaxed or even ignored, at a time like this. She did, however, whisper fiercely, "I am proud that my son is a man of such principles. Just be _careful_, Kal-El!"

"I am, Mother, and I will," he told her.

She'd last held him like this when he was very small, but Lara remembered her arms around him and the warm scent of his hair in her nose. At that moment she had known she would move the very heavens for the sake of her son. Only, in the end it had been Jor-El who had moved them all across the heavens. For his people, yes. But mostly for this boy of theirs.

When they both drew back it was with identical, half-embarrassed rubs at their eyes, where tears of relief and concern had gathered. "I had thought you would attempt to dissuade me," Kal-El admitted.

"Have I any chance of doing so?" Lara asked plaintively.

He lifted his head and his expression went solemn and determined. Suddenly he looked so much like Jor-El that the resemblance was staggering. "No, Mother, you do not."

"Then give me credit as your mother for knowing that before you did, my son," she replied. Oh yes, he was set on his course. "However … I suggest that we not speak of this your father."

Kal-El's brow furrowed. "Why should we not?"

Lara sighed. It was intuition that told her to keep this news from Jor-El, but sound reasoning followed it quickly. "He has enough to worry about. And he is too much in Dru-Zod's company; perhaps he is the only person on this planet who has even the slightest hope of swaying the Supreme Chancellor. Considering that, it is best if Jor-El is completely unaware of such things."

Kal-El bowed to her greater experience. "If we are speaking of things I should prefer not to tell Father, then there is one more thing I must tell you."

Lara tipped her head sideways. "Yes, my son?"

To her surprise, he looked _more _nervous than when he'd spoken of treasonous plots. Kal-El took a deep breath, and began, "It concerns Lois. Mother … I love her."

…

There were some days when Dru-Zod craved a challenge, and this was one of them. He was still searching for the roots of the conspiracy against him, and _knowing_ that something was amiss but being unable to _find_ it was maddening. Some of the investigations he was undertaking, however, were simply too easy.

Right now, Tar-Kon was sitting in his office. Currently a highly-ranked official in the Bureau of Human Affairs, the man had been mere domestic security personnel on Krypton-that was. His kind were little more than watchmen, in the strictest sense of the word. They witnessed and mediated personal disputes, but if something truly serious happened they could only watch and wait for the military to arrive. Dru-Zod found the lot of them to be useful at best and annoyances most of the time. Surely unworthy of his respect or his caution.

For example, Tar-Kon could not simply await the meeting that was already ten minutes late. He continuously looked at the clock, or glanced toward the door, or changed position in his seat. Not as fidgety as a human would be, but to a Kryptonian his discomfort was clear.

Dru-Zod waited another ten minutes, allowing Tar-Kon to stew in his own fear, and then entered the room. Immediately the younger man rose to his feet with a respectful bow. "Supreme Chancellor Zod," he said, every breath betraying his anxiety.

"Thank you, Tar-Kon, for taking time from your exhaustive duties to comply with my request," Dru-Zod replied, taking his seat. He used the voice he'd developed specifically for these interrogations, low and smooth and rich in timbre, a voice that invited confidences.

And one that could turn deliver the darkest threats in elegant tones, though he rarely had to use it in such a way.

"It is my pleasure," Tar-Kon lied as he sat back down. "Tell me how I may be of service, Supreme Chancellor."

The man before him was a coward and a fool, in Dru-Zod's estimation. A coward because he had never seen combat, and a fool for showing the depth of his fear. It would take mere minutes to reduce him to a sniveling, shivering, pathetic wretch using only words, but that was sport for another day. "I shall not keep you long," he informed Tar-Kon, sliding a document on his desk display into view.

Tar-Kon swallowed visibly. Right there were the names of every human hostage—in his own mind Dru-Zod did not call them guests, as he knew quite well what they were—and the history of their ownership. In some cases they had changed hands twice. Watching him, Dry-Zod murmured silkily, "I merely wished to discuss these irregularities with you."

To his surprise, Tar-Kon met his gaze. "Irregularities, Supreme Chancellor?"

"Some of the humans have been passed about like keepsakes," Dru-Zod replied, with a little chill on the tone. Not frost, not yet, just a hint of warning.

"Yes, sir, there were some changes made in housing," Tar-Kon said. He was still clearly nervous, but to Dru-Zod's surprise he actually seemed to have some backbone. He certainly wasn't spilling a list of justifications as Dru-Zod had expected.

"Why were these changes made, Tar-Kon?" Still the persuasive, friendly voice—for now.

"Supreme Chancellor, some of those who volunteered to serve as hosts discovered that they were unsuited to the task. Others who had not had the opportunity, or who had no interest until they had learned more about the humans, asked to relieve the first group of their burden. The Bureau of Human Affairs facilitated these changes as efficiently as possible, and as you see, everything was fully documented."

"And why was my office not informed?"

Tar-Kon looked honestly surprised. "Sir, we did not think so trivial a matter required escalation."

"Trivial?" Dru-Zod's voice was at its most calm and patient when he was growing angry, as now. "The unauthorized reassignment of the humans was no trivial matter. Nor were all the other 'minor' adjustments the Benevolent Society for Kryptonian Cultural Advancement has applied."

That quickly, Tar-Kon looked frightened again. "Supreme Chancellor?"

Dru-Zod smiled, a gentle fatherly smile. "Did you honestly believe, Tar-Kon of the House of Kon, that no one _noticed_ the humans moving about at liberty? Or the astounding amount of black-market items acquired by your Society?"

All Tar-Kon could do for a moment was swallow, and then he managed to speak with hesitation. "Sir, it … it seemed to us that as the superior species, it was our duty to look after the humans. Like children. They are accustomed to outdoor exercise, and it is not as if they can escape, not when all of them wear tracking collars. And we sought only to make them more comfortable, with such small things as might soothe a fractious child. With so much traffic in items from Earth, it only seemed sensible."

That was an interesting gambit, and Dru-Zod changed strategies in an instant. He adopted an understanding tone. "I see now. Quite a commendable effort. However, all children need discipline, Tar-Kon, for their own safety as well as the good of the society they live within. Surely you are aware of the anti-human sentiment running high amongst certain sectors of our people?"

"Yes, Supreme Chancellor."

"In light of that, I think it would be best if the humans' liberty was revoked." Dru-Zod watched carefully, and saw only the slightest disappointment in Tar-Kon. Interesting. "In fact, it would be wise to keep them indoors as much as possible. If one of them were to be harmed by these radicals, that could jeopardize our entire operation on their home planet."

"Understood, sir," Tar-Kon said with a nod.

"The changes of residence shall remain as they stand now. As for the black-market items, what has already been done can be forgiven. But it will cease. _Now_." Only at the last did he reveal the steel beneath the velvet, his pale blue eyes flashing fire.

Tar-Kon practically leapt from his seat. "Yes, absolutely, Supreme Chancellor Zod. I will make the rest of my department aware of your orders immediately, sir."

"Very good," Dru-Zod said, and dismissed the man.

He was still seated at his desk a few moments later when Ursa walked in. "I am surprised that odious little worm did not dissolve out of terror," she remarked.

"Yes," Dru-Zod murmured. "Either the conspiracy we seek lies elsewhere … or there is someone he fears more than me."

Ursa smiled, sensing that he was about to set her loose to hunt.

…

If Lara had been stunned by the first half of their discussion, she was utterly staggered by this news as her son continued to explain. He had a deeper and more personal reason than duty for freeing the humans, and for releasing Lois first among them. Kal-El had finally fallen in love, the love that was supposedly less desirable: passionate love. Not the companionable love that Kryptonians prized as the civic ideal, the love of a semi-arranged match, where friendship and commonality grew into a lifelong connection and source of strength, the love that she and Jor-El had hoped he would grow into with Lyla Ler-Ol.. No, his love was the one they were all warned about, the love that came searing into the heart like a meteor tearing through the atmosphere, love that burned fierce and high and could destroy all in its path.

The same love that Lara herself had felt for Jor-El in their youth. Not at their first meeting, when his blue eyes struck her to the core of her soul in a single glance—that was merely attraction. No, this love had come somewhat later, when she'd first understood the sort of man he was, the brilliance behind his abstracted demeanor and the noble resolve that was the core of his soul. That love had made her want to bind her fortunes to his for all time, made her want to be the mother of his son and overseer of his legacy. Her love had not been blind, but it saw too much and with too keen a clarity. From the moment that love entered her life Lara Lor-Van was no more, only waiting impatiently until she could call herself Lara Jor-El.

That love she had struggled to hide beneath a veneer of propriety, and mostly succeeded, at least in public. Jor-El returned her love with the same fervor, which was dangerous and made keeping the force of their feelings extraordinarily difficult. The timing of the great exodus from Krypton-that-was had been fortunate for them both; under pressure, many couples found refuge in the passionate love that they had been taught was so selfish. During the journey, it had been safety and comfort and strength for many of their people, as Lara well knew. As a historian, she knew the exact percentage of children of the last two decades who had not been conceived in a birthing matrix—and it was higher than anyone would've guessed.

Her Kal-El had fallen into that same kind of love, with a _human_. While Lara did not regret her own destiny, her heart bled for her son. No matter what was to be, he had chosen a path for himself that would be incredibly hard. Perhaps the wisest course—as a Kryptonian, as a historian, as his _mother_—was to counsel him to put Lois aside from his thoughts, to starve this love that consumed him and force it to loosen its hold on him.

And yet, Lara could not make herself say those words. Not now. Not when his love was so far away and facing her own trials. Not when their entire civilization seemed with each passing day to lean further over the abyss that was revolt and anarchy. No, she could not deny him the strength such a love would bring. Had not Jor-El's love for her and for Kal-El himself fueled the salvation of all their people? Perhaps Kal-El loved Lois to the same level of inspiration.

All she could say, taking both his hands for emphasis and looking deep into those cerulean eyes just like his father's, was, "Are you _certain_, Kal-El?"

The response came neither too quick nor too slow, and it came with a smile of such joy that she could no longer doubt him even for an instant.

"_Yes._"


	40. In the Midst of Metamorphosis

Lois' first night in Smallville had been … odd. The guest bedroom was cozily furnished, with an overstuffed chair in one corner and a four-poster bed. A handmade quilt of painstakingly-arranged white, forest green, and chocolate brown patches adorned with a few precious darts of gold covered the duvet. The walls were painted a pale, cheerful green, with accents of white and rich cherry-stained woodwork. The curtains and the tablecloth over the nightstand were a warm beige with a stripe of darker brown. She didn't have her own bathroom, but the one in the hall was only a couple steps outside her bedroom door, and it too was comfortably appointed. A new toothbrush still in the packaging sat beside the sink in anticipation of the next guest.

Over the years Lois had grown accustomed to moving and adapting to the nighttime sounds of a new house, to sleeping soundly wherever she happened to lay her head. But it was just so _quiet_. No cars passed by outside, and the only time she heard a dog bark, its owners hushed it quickly. That was just plain weird to Lois, who had sometimes fallen asleep to the marching of booted feet or the rumbling tires of jeeps.

Finally she realized why it bothered her. Kal-El's house had been this quiet, in the depths of the night. While Kryptonians did sometimes keep late hours, they were usually absorbed in some form of study, which was generally a near-silent pursuit. Lois longed for the faint blue glow of the flower Lara had given her, and for the warmth of Kal-El at her back, his arm flung casually about her waist.

If they'd only known the secret growing with such soft certainty in her belly….

That finally made everything hit home, and Lois wept. For herself, uprooted and facing unimaginable odds. For Kal-El, who was still under Zod's power and who didn't know he was a father. For her mother and sister living in hiding somewhere, wondering what had happened to her. And for herself again, so lonely and so dependent on the kindness of strangers, a condition that her self-sufficient nature rebelled against automatically.

Lois didn't cry loudly; she just curled up in a ball and pressed her face to the pillow to soak up the tears. So she had no idea how Lana had even known she was upset, but in the midst of her misery the redhead came into the room with two steaming mugs of tea, sat down beside her without a word, and rubbed her back. It was the silent understanding—no false attempt at cheer, just the acknowledgement and sympathy—that broke her. Lois rolled over and let Lana hold her as she shuddered and sobbed.

Once she was cried out, Lana didn't try to get her to talk about it. Instead she offered tissues, and then the still-warm tea, sweet and soothing. "Sleep, Lois. Tomorrow will be different," was all she said, and Lois had the odd feeling that maybe this was what having an older sister was like.

When Lois finally fell asleep, she dreamed strange vivid dreams. Only one stayed with her the next morning. She had been standing out in the middle of the Kansas prairie, waist-high grass rippling in the night wind, a scene that must've been pulled from a movie she'd watched or perhaps a book she'd read. The sky above was _enormous_, and to her surprise she recognized the constellations of New Krypton in the millions of stars glittering there like some impossible fairy-dust. The vastness of it impressed her, weighed her down with silence and contemplation, as no daytime-blue sky ever could.

Suddenly shooting stars streaked across the immense sky, and Lois stood with her head craned back, watching the spectacle with awe. And then, as she stared, one of the stars soared down toward her, so bright she had to throw her hands up before her, squeezing her eyes tight shut, and still her vision went red with the blazing brilliance.

There was no sound, and it never occurred to her to run, but when the light died away to a faint glow she removed her hands, looking for the meteorite that must have landed somewhere nearby. Lois had some faint dream-notion that it might be valuable. Yet there was no meteorite … instead, the last golden glow of it was now emanating from her belly, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

She woke from that sometime in the early morning, the window still dark, and had to sit up for a moment until reality reasserted itself. Then the dream seemed silly, a product of pregnancy hormones or too much snack food, and Lois got up to go to the bathroom. The hooked rug underfoot helped to ground her in the real and practical world, but the awe and wonder of the dream lingered a while longer.

…

It had only been a matter of time, and Perry White had known it. There were only so many places Lois could've gone after she hopped off the cargo jet she'd stowed away on, and although the military had first looked at the much closer news outlets, they had eventually come to the _Daily Planet_, as he knew they must.

Now he was sitting on the wrong side of a battered steel desk, facing a seriously pissed-off general. "I'll ask you again, Mr. White, in the hopes you'll remember. Where is this girl?" And he added insult to injury by picking up the photograph and holding it out. In the picture, Lois was rolling her eyes and giving a sarcastic grin, standing beside a younger blonde who posed prettily.

"And I'll tell you again, General, that the young woman you're looking for did in fact come to my office, but her story was pretty damn wild. I had to check her facts, and while I did, she got cold feet and left. Probably thought I didn't believe her and was calling you." Perry thought he'd delivered that convincingly enough, but he was too wise to believe that it would pass for truth. General Samuel Lane didn't get to where he was by gambling without an ace in his pocket.

Now he played it. "I despise liars, Mr. White," he growled, and Perry could see where Lois had gotten her stubborn determination. Sam leaned forward, the broad span of his uniform decorated with only a few medals—but ones that counted. "I know Lois came to see you. According to my sources, she spent over three hours in this building, and left with _you_. So I'm asking one more time, as a father and a general, _where is my daughter_?"

"'According to your sources'? Were you ever a reporter, General Lane?" Perry asked, and then decided to play his own hole-card. He dropped the polite-and regretfully-unhelpful-civilian act, letting his own determination burn brightly. "You're right, Lois came to me. And told me a story I had to check out, because even at my age and experience I couldn't believe our government could handle her situation with such blind, ham-handed _stupidity_."

Perry saw the flash of fire in the general's eyes, but the other man didn't burst into a frothing rage. Mad Dog Lane had apparently learned to rein in the explosive temper that had given him his nickname. "So you think I've been stupid?" was all he said.

Leaning his elbows on the table, Perry looked directly into bright blue eyes, hard as diamonds. "I'd known your daughter for less than an hour before I realized that locking her up was the surest way to turn her against you. How come _you_ didn't see that? You're her father, you _should_ know her better than I do."

"When it comes to a decision between what Lois wants and what all of humanity _needs_, I can't be swayed by sentiment," General Lane said coldly.

"Too bad. Maybe if you had, one of us would know where she is right now."

The general's expression was disbelieving. "So you're going to maintain that you don't know?"

Perry managed to chuckle. "I wish I did."

"Is that so?" General Lane's voice was deceptively bland. "Isn't it odd, then, that you purchased clothing in her size? And bought her favorite kind of bagels by pure coincidence. And ordered pizza twice in one week."

The editor leaned back in his chair, glancing at the two impassive men in fatigues who flanked the door. "You know she's not with me. You already searched my place. Probably did it while your MPs were driving me here to meet you. So enough of the song and dance, General. I've seen it before and I'm not impressed."

"She _was_ living with you," the General pointed out. "It stands to reason you know where she is now. And I _will_ get that information from you, rest assured."

That last had the flavor of a threat. Perry White had been threatened many times in the course of his career, cursed out by everything from crooked cops to graft-ridden politicians. The best threat, in his memory, had been from a leader of a KKK group involved in arson at several churches. When the man was arrested, partly on Perry's information, he'd had the audacity to call down the wrath of God on whomever had betrayed him. Considering that the bastard had set fire to the houses of God because he didn't like the skin color of the people worshipping in them, Perry thought that was pretty stupid of him. Or just racist, arrogant, and hypocritical. He'd made a good news bite for the TV crews, though, practically frothing at the mouth and shouting about how God would strike down the traitor.

This, now, the steady way the general looked at him, the steely determination in those blue eyes, the way the man looked like a coiled-up spring under serious tension, all of those factors made the quiet, subtle threat much more serious. And still, Perry looked right back at him. He'd had bricks thrown through his windows and a note that said 'BOOM!' shoved in his mailbox, he'd sat down at a narrow table to interview a dapper little man who had murdered six men, he'd even been shot at as an embedded journalist in Qurac. No way was he gonna flinch now.

"No, you won't," Perry said calmly, so steadfast and composed that a new frown line appeared on the general's forehead. "The reason being, I don't _know_ where she is. I introduced her to a source of mine, one whose real name I don't know but whose information has always been solid. He told me he was turning her over to one of his own contacts, whom as far as I know I've never met or even heard of."

"You handed my firstborn daughter over to a stranger." General Lane's tone was flat, but the rage was back in his eyes.

"And she went willingly rather than let you catch her. What kind of father _are_ you?" That was stupid, worse than taunting a maddened bull, but Perry had to make it seem as though he were playing all his cards recklessly to hide the one little lie he'd slipped in. Of course he knew Senator Ross. For Lois' safety, though, he had to sell this story like no other in his entire career.

The general's jaw worked as he ground his teeth. "You are a newspaper editor, _Mr._ White, and were a reporter before that. You don't have daughters of your own, so I'll excuse that remark. And you have no concept of _duty_, so I'll excuse your ignorance too."

That struck a chord. On another day Perry would've argued that his duty was to the truth. Not today, though. There was such a thing as too much risk. Still, he bared his teeth in a fierce grin, as though assured of victory—and as long as his one bluff worked, he was. "At least gimme credit for being wise enough to know you'd try to strong-arm me, and setting this up so I _can't_ rat Lois out no matter _what_ you do. And please, General Lane, _think_ about who and what I am. I would _love_ to write a story under my own byline about how the Vice Chief of Staff decided to water-board a civilian for information about his runaway daughter while in the middle of a goddamned _war_. Do you have any _idea _of our circulation numbers? Hell, it wouldn't matter, that issue would send them through the roof. They'd give me a Pulitzer too."

Talk about looks that could kill! All the general did, however, was say stiffly to the guards, "Get him out of my sight."

"Sir, should we detain him, sir?" one of them asked.

General Lane waved a hand. "Take him home. He's no use to us."

_Score one for the fourth estate,_ Perry thought as they led him out.

…

Lois' first full day in Smallville started with strategy. "The odds of someone connecting you with your father are pretty slim, but just the same, I'd rather not use your real name," Lana said apologetically. "Do you have a nickname?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I used to write letters to the school newspaper under the name Sadie Blodgett, though."

The redhead eyed her critically. "Hmm. You don't look like a Sadie at all."

"That was kind of the point," Lois said. It was so early that it was still dark outside, but Lana had coffee on and was even letting her have a cup. Only one, though, because she was pregnant, and too much caffeine was bad for the baby.

Lois heard that, and connected it with her brief glance at the bookcase in the hallway, where an older edition of _What to Expect When You're Expecting_ sat next to _The Fertility Diet_, and both titles had caught her eye. She knew, then, but nothing needed to be said about it.

"Sadie's usually a nickname for Sarah," Lana was saying. "Would you mind if I introduced you as Sarah Blodgett? I'll say you're a friend of a friend from Washington, staying with me for a break from the hectic pace of the city."

"You think that'll keep them off the scent?" Lois asked dubiously. To her mind, the connections between herself, her father, and D.C. were too clear.

Lana chuckled. "Sweetheart, if you keep resting your hand on your belly like that, they'll figure out enough of your situation to fill in the blanks themselves."

Lois startled; she hadn't even been aware of her hand on her tummy, but that was quickly becoming its default position. "That's even worse. A pregnant teenage Army brat?"

"No, no," Lana demurred. "Everyone knows Pete's a Senator, and this is an election year. People will probably assume you're a conservative Congressman's daughter, pregnant out of wedlock and hiding out here in the country to have your baby. If we just smile and don't give any details, the rumor mill will invent a better cover story for us than either of us could make up. And if you forget to answer to Sarah a couple times, that will only spur them on."

There was a happy little gleam in her eye, and Lois pointed at her with the whole-grain bagel she'd been pressed into eating. "You've got a devious streak, Lana."

The redhead looked down modestly. "That's as may be, but no one here would ever believe it of me."

Lois found herself grinning. "Just like they'd never imagine you can sing every word of Aerosmith's _Crazy_ pitch-perfect. Gotcha, Red. I'm ready to roll out and see the sights whenever you are."

She hadn't understood why Lana was allotting a full day to such a simple trip. They only needed to stop by the post office, the general store, and the clothing store, the last to pick up some warmer clothes for Lois. All of those were located on Main Street within walking distance of each other, so what made Lana think they had to start at daybreak and plan for a full day.

That just showed how little she knew of small town life. Within the first hour—spent in line at the post office—Lois became convinced that the entire population of Smallville knew Lana and had to inquire after her personally. Even the clerks behind the counter made small talk about Pete and what was going on in the nation's capital. Come to think of it, that probably explained the line, but none of the customers seemed to mind since they all got the same treatment, and all caught up with each other while they waited.

The general store was a welcome escape. There were only two or three other shoppers browsing the shelves, and the moment the store owner saw Lois he insisted that she take a seat on the stool behind the counter and rest a while. "You look a bit footsore, miss," he said solicitously.

In truth, she was grateful. Lois' legs ached after standing in line, and Lana introduced her while she relaxed. On first impression, Lana's cousin Silas was a round man: plump with cheer, his round skull rising from a fringe of hair, with a round smiling face and glasses with rounded lenses and neat metal frames. Quite a contrast to the tall, slim redhead with her waist-length hair, but the hair still hanging bravely on at the back of his head was the same auburn as hers, and they had the same open, friendly smile.

Last night the two women had only picked up necessities; now Lana and Silas caught up on family events. They were kind enough to include 'Sarah' in the conversation, and Lois began to feel something like the guest of honor.

She couldn't help noticing that every woman who entered the store glanced at her, and most of them smiled compassionately. As if they already knew her story, even though she wasn't showing yet, and neither she nor Lana had mentioned her condition. "Is it really that obvious?" she finally blurted out.

Silas patted her shoulder. "Well, Sarah, you're clearly not from around here. And there aren't many reasons why a young girl from back East comes out to the country for peace and quiet. It'll be fine; you're in good hands with Lana."

"Trust me," the redhead said, and to her surprise, Lois already did.


	41. A Flare of a Fire Abruptly Caught

**I wasn't fooling when I said the story was ramping up. It starts now, with this chapter. It can truly go any way with these characters at this point. No one is safe. Period. This is the spark that lights the tinderbox. From here on in, all bets are off. Things are about to start leaving you breathless. **

* * *

Time had passed. Curiously, though each hour seemed to creep by, the days piled up in drifts. Kal-El threw himself into his work, both with the Resistance and his scholarly studies. He had entered a new field, paying closer attention to engineering and crystal construction. Part of that was for the cover he and Jhan-Or had come up with, the rough drafts of his father's ship designs. Kal-El applied what he learned, constantly refining the blueprints. The work kept suspicion off him, and thinking of ship design gave him something to do during the nights when he couldn't sleep.

The Supreme Chancellor had commanded that the military ships ruined by sabotage would be replaced, and their construction would be guarded night and day by Consulars. That meant more salt, which meant more shipments, which was a good thing because everyone involved in the Resistance could feel time running out. They had to all be back on Earth _before_ those ships were ready to take off.

Huang was now Kal-El's primary contact among the humans, and at least he seemed prepared to trust the Kryptonian's intentions … yet it wasn't the same, and not just for the obvious reasons. Kal-El missed the camaraderie he'd had with Lois, the way she could say volumes with a look and read the same from him, the little jokes between them that no one else would have laughed at. The flower his mother had given her now stood by Kal-El's bedside, its light a comfort when he woke from nightmares.

The Resistance moved along apace, everything going according to plan … but there was more to it than that. The Kryptonian side of things, what Kal-El was coming to think of as the Rebellion, was fractured and at odds with itself. Those who worked with Jhan-Or—and Kal-El knew a few of them, but by no means all—moved incrementally, quiet and patient and very, very careful. There were others, allied with Zor-El, whose contempt of the regime began to be open.

Kal-El had never seen civil unrest. The environment aboard the great transport ships that had brought them here was tense, surely, but he had never known such a degree of mistrust and hostility. More and more of the common people of Krypton seemed to be growing disillusioned with Supreme Chancellor Zod's regime. The Consulars' black uniforms no longer got nods of respect from passers-by; now they were viewed with barely-restrained contempt.

He had even overheard seditious conversations, mostly among people his own age, whispers here and there that Dru-Zod would never relinquish power, that things had been better under the Science Council, that the housing shortage was being maintained to keep better surveillance of the populace. And that quite shocked Kal-El. Here he was, being so careful and so studious and so apparently loyal as he devoted his whole heart to his secret cause, and others were maligning the power structure without even bothering to see who was listening! They _should_ have cast suspicious looks at him, been more careful in his presence, seeing as how his father was still a staunch supporter, and how he had never even looked approvingly at anyone who dared make such remarks.

Young as he was, Kal-El still had no idea just how bad it could get.

…

The news that day had been consumed by one shocking story: another attempt at sabotage, this one unsuccessful, but with terrifying consequences. Two Consulars had been _wounded_ in the attack. Such a thing was unprecedented. Kryptonian society in general did not bear arms, and most people not in the military would not have known how to use a weapon, much less make one.

_Someone_ out there did, and was willing to cause harm to further their goals. All of New Krypton was in an uproar about it. There had not been such violent crime among them for centuries, the signs of inherent instability found in early childhood and remedied before such seeds could blossom into evil. And now _this_…!

The Science Council released a broadcast universally condemning message, urging those responsible to turn themselves in to the authorities and assuring them they would receive humane treatment to realign them with the goals of civilized society. Most of it was delivered by Jor-El. His son understood that; whatever Jor-El might privately believe, if he was to have _any_ sway with the current ruler, he would need to profess his loyalty. And he needed whatever influence he could get, as the most likely culprit was his own brother.

It still galled Kal-El. He had begun to feel as if _everyone_ knew that Dru-Zod was corrupt and change was necessary, but because none of the influential people would admit to their beliefs, no one knew that they weren't alone. Except those involved in the Rebellion, but that had even more reason not to speak up.

Throughout the day, Kal-El kept overhearing bits of news and gossip. The Consulars would not suffer such an insult to stand, and were hunting for the perpetrator with every resource they possessed. That turned his stomach, and he could no longer stand to be alone. He decided to visit his parents.

One of Jhan-Or's associates had worked out how to make the crystal necklaces read a signature off of a certain species of plant, and Kal-El had one of those—though he rarely used it, preferring to keep Lois' necklace on his person. Since he was going out somewhere he might be seen and remarked on later, Kal-El placed the tracking crystal against the plant's fleshy leaves, assured the artificially-amplified biometric signature would make it appear as if Lois were at home asleep.

Kal-El did not think to call ahead until he was halfway there, having responded to a blind impulse to be with his family. He popped up the hologram and sent a quick message, apologizing for his unexpected arrival. Oddly, no reply came before he landed the hovercraft at his parents' home.

Much to his surprise, his father answered the door, looking harried. "Kal-El? What are you…? Never mind. Just come in." Jor-El caught his son's arm for a brief second, giving it a warning squeeze.

That was fortunate, as he had no other preparation for what waited in the living area. Ursa herself paced the room, along with two other Consulars standing at parade rest. The shock of seeing them, their stark black uniforms in sharp contrast to the lightness of his parents' home, stole Kal-El's breath.

And then Kal-El saw Alura, seated beside his mother. His aunt looked pale and distant, her eyes too wide. He came to a startled halt, taking in the entire scene, and his heart started to beat faster. _Don't be stupid. They're not here for you. If they wanted you, they'd have gotten you at home. Just breathe._ Making himself sound bewildered wasn't difficult; only keeping the fear out of his voice was. "What is going on?"

"Your family is currently under protective custody. Your uncle is a traitor, and he has threatened your father," Ursa said smoothly, her dark eyes intent on his.

Kal-El shot a glance at Jor-El, who nodded grimly. Kal-El's mind raced, trying to get a grip on the situation. He took a seat and so did his father, the atmosphere tense.

"Zor-El confessed. He lead the sabotage attempt," Lara added. She looked up at Kal-El with worried eyes. There was more than one traitor in the family, after all. And they could not afford for Dru-Zod to learn that.

"Where is your human?" one of the other Consulars asked.

Kal-El had practiced what to do in this situation ever since Lara caught him out with one simple question. Every day, at random times, he quizzed himself on what he would say if someone asked about Lois or any of the other humans, until his responses were facile and held no trace of a lie. Now he managed to sound only distracted when he replied, "At home, asleep."

To his dismay, the Consular checked that on a mobile computing crystal, and nodded to Ursa. _They're watching us far too closely,_ Kal-El thought. All it would take would be one mistake, one tiny bit of bad timing, to reveal that three-quarters of the humans were already gone.

Right now was the most precarious moment. If anyone in authority realized what was happened, the conspirators would be arrested, and the remaining humans would be locked up, too. New hostages would be demanded under threat of military attack. The entire enterprise, resistance and rebellion both, could be destroyed by the smallest misstep.

And here he was, sitting in his parents' front room, under the watchful eyes of three Consulars—including one of the Hounds of Zod. The one whose devotion to her master transcended all Kryptonian notions of decency, from what Jhan-Or had said.

As if she'd heard the thought, Ursa turned to look at him calculatingly. Kal-El knew that to look away abruptly would seem suspicious, so he kept his eyes on her, knowing his expression was worried. That ought to be normal in these circumstances. The stress of maintaining a conspiracy, of watching every word and gesture for what hidden meanings might be transmitted, was being to chafe. Kal-El wanted this whole business _over_. He wanted his life back.

He wanted Lois back.

Something occurred to him then, and he turned back to his family. "Where is Kara?" he asked.

"Asleep," Lara replied. "She is very upset by all of this, you know."

"I gave her a mild sedative," Jor-El murmured.

The presence of the Consulars truncated any attempt at conversation. It wasn't as if any of them had much to say, at least not much that could be comforting, but at least the sound of their own voices would have drowned out the creeping silence that was becoming louder than words in its own way.

Every step that Ursa took in her , every tiniest rustle of clothing from one of them, even the faint hum of the crystals themselves was audible. The waiting was intolerable, and Kal-El looked down, letting his mind roam to safer places. The plans for the ship, as usual. He was working on a detachable command module, such that the ship could be flown to Earth, let its cargo of refugees land safely, and then remain airborne. Perhaps it could be piloted back to New Krypton, or perhaps merely landed somewhere else on Earth's surface.

With all the time and thought he'd put into this project, and the amount of salt Jhan-Or had procured for him, the Supreme Chancellor would certainly believe that it was their true plan if discovered. Hopefully the final transports of human hostages could be completed without that coming to pass….

Inevitably, his thoughts returned to the too-silent room, all of them waiting for news that could not be good. Kal-El wondered why Zor-El had done this. He was not a young man; it was extremely unlikely that he had actually been the one to attack the guards and run away. But he had confessed to the deed. To spare his followers? Or to make himself a martyr? Either way, the cost would be high—and Zor-El would not bear it alone.

Just then, Kal-El noticed that Alura was holding his mother's hand. Her knuckles were white with the strength of her grip, but Lara did not protest, only held on. That was all any of them could do, hold on and hope against hope that their various secrets would add up to a better future.

He'd become more aware of touch in their society, how it _did_ happen here and there, however fleeting or subdued. At a moment like this, when words were no comfort and dangerous besides due to the listening Consulars, that simple clasp of hands was probably the only thing enabling Alura to endure. Kal-El wished he could go to her, but they were being watched….

A voice sounded from the Consular's mobile computer, and everyone froze. "Suspect located at Council building," it buzzed, clearly the report of a security robot.

Kal-El happened to see Ursa's face at that news, the way her eyes went wide. "_Stay here,_" she snarled to the other two, and then bolted out the door. Hovercraft normally ran silently, but she accelerated so hard they could all hear the engine whine.

Jor-El looked at him, his eyes warning silence. But all of them knew what that report and Ursa's reaction meant.

Supreme Chancellor Zod was in the Council building. And if Zor-El had gone there….

…

The fools hadn't rescinded his access to the Council building. Of course, this might be a trap, but Zor-El thought it more likely that Dru-Zod's arrogance was simply that immense. To seize power the way he had, and to maintain such a strangling grip on it, took as much inflated conceit as it did strength of will.

But then, his own errand was just as egotistical, was it not? Zor-El laughed silently to himself, his turn of mind fatalistic. At best he would end the day in the Phantom Zone. Thank Rao Alura had repudiated him; this would not touch her if he could help it. Although he wished, one last time, that he might have a few moments alone with her. One embrace, one kiss, might make the knowledge of his fate less bitter.

This was not how things were meant to go. He had sent three of his followers to reconnoiter the new construction. Their orders were _only_ to observe, return, and report. Two were young men, though, afire with discontent against the regime and eager to _do_ something about it. One of them was a steady, older fellow, whom Zor-El had hoped would rein in the younger pair. Alas, he'd been swayed by them, and the three had actually managed to get into the area where the ships were rising slowly from their seed crystals.

The result was inevitable. They had been spotted, the Consulars had given chase, and in the panic and confusion _someone_ had used one of the weapons Zor-El had secretly been manufacturing. They should not have even brought those on that mission! It would have been better to be caught, and pretend they acted alone.

It would have been better to be caught and expose _everyone_ than to raise a hand in violence. The Consulars were the elite of the military, enforcing its rules on those members of Kryptonian society who _were_ accustomed to weapons and confrontation. They would not tolerate such effrontery.

At least the three had reported back, wide-eyed and half-mad with fear. They knew the consequences, knew that every Consular on New Krypton was hunting them. Perhaps they had expected Zor-El to disavow them, cast them loose before they could drag down the rest of the nascent rebellion.

No. He was no Jhan-Or, to lurk in the safety of the shadows while foolish youths ran his risks for him. Zor-El had taken their weapons and sent them all home, then told his most trusted lieutenant that _he_ had been behind the attempted sabotage. That man had done what they all agreed to do, if one was exposed. Cut off contact, erase all hints of connection, pull back and regroup.

Having taken responsibility for the errors of his underlings did not mean Zor-El would simply sit and wait to be arrested. Oh, no. If he was to be taken, he would sell himself dearly. To begin with, the ship-building facility was lightly guarded after one attempt, and it had been simple for Zor-El to release a few hovering robots that under normal circumstances were delivery couriers. He had modified them … and filled their carriers with salt and a few other chemical compounds. With any luck this group of ships would be utterly ruined as well.

And now all that was left was how he would be caught. Surrender was not an option. There was a slim chance that he might be able to accomplish the ultimate goal; one man working alone with nothing left to lose could often do what many careful plotters could not. And so, with a weapon in hand, Zor-El moved cautiously through the Council building, assassination on his mind.

There. A light under the door of Dru-Zod's office. Zor-El crept closer, alert to every tiny sound and every moving shadow. This weapon was derived from mining tools; instead of pushing an auger into the earth, it fired short slugs of hardened metal. Rather like what the humans knew as guns, which in fact had given him the idea. The projectiles were quite destructive, especially when fired in a burst, and the accuracy wasn't bad at close range. And he intended to be very close.

At the door, taking a breath. Wishing all of this could have turned out differently. Wishing Jor-El had confided in him on Krypton-that-was. Wishing his brother had trusted him; wishing he'd been worthy of that trust, wishing all the foolish petty conflicts between them could have been washed away.

Wishing he could have picked Kara up and kissed her blonde curls. His daughter, the most precious thing in all the universe, conceived not in the precisely-measured environment of a birthing matrix but in a moment of passionate love overcoming both societal conditioning and desperation borne of stress.

Wishing he could have apologized to Alura one more time. Wishing a woman like her had not chosen to love a fool like him. She did not deserve this.

Too late for wishes. The door was too strong to batter down, and no one other than the Supreme Chancellor and his Hounds had access here. The walls, however, were more lightly built.

Zor-El raised the weapon in both hands, and aimed for the place where he knew Dru-Zod's desk stood. If the once-General was in there, that's where he would be.

_Alura, I am so sorry. I cannot let Kara grow up under the thumb of this madman. Please forgive me, love of my heart and my life._

Thinking that, he began to press the switch that would fire the weapon…

…and heard a shriek from further up the corridor. "_**Traitor!**_" Ursa screamed, running at him, firing the laser weapon all Consulars carried. Firing, firing, her own haste ruining her aim. Thunder of booted feet behind her, more of them, coming fast.

Zor-El's arm burned, but he managed to pull the trigger switch, the crystal wall before him dissolving into shards. And then, as bolts of laser fire zipped past him, he wheeled on the Hound and brought her into his sights, his hand still on the switch—

The world went white, and Zor-El knew no more.


	42. And Thus It Begins

**You think last chapter was full of surprises?**

***Both Evil Cliffie Princess crowns firmly on***

**If you've never read our other universes, hold on tight.**

**This is ground zero.**

**Veteran readers of the _LS_-verse's action arcs and such, you know where the harnesses are. **

**It's _go_ time.**

* * *

"Suspect neutralized." That flat pronouncement came from a handheld computer, and everyone immediately knew what it meant. Zor-El was captured … or worse. Lara managed not to wince when Alura's grip on her hand tightened, the other woman's nails almost breaking the skin. She held on, giving what comfort she could, as Alura's shoulders began to shake.

Lara turned her gaze on the two Consulars still in the room, unable to hide the flare of resentment in her eyes. _Protection_. Of course. Dru-Zod would call it that, but the real reason those black-clad specters of destruction were in her house was surveillance. What she wanted most of all was to throw them out….

"You are no longer needed here." That voice, so firm and so certain in speaking the thought of Lara's secret heart, had come from _Kal-El_, who rose to his feet smoothly.

"That is not for you to determine," said the first Consular.

"You heard the report. There is no longer any need to protect us from a suspect who has been neutralized," Kal-El replied, and there was steel in his tone—hot steel, anger backing his determination, the same voice his father had used on very rare occasions.

Lara tried to catch his eye; he was only doing what she wanted to do, only doing what he felt was right, but the Consulars were armed and it was dangerous to rile them. Especially given the secrets he'd confided in her a few months ago.

Instead, Jor-El stood up as well. "My son is correct. I would not detain you here when you may be needed at the Council building." That had an impact, the two glancing at each other, and Jor-El added, "My brother was, before his madness, a brilliant and determined man. Who knows what he has done in his folly? But he is no threat to us here any longer. You are free to go to your leader."

Throughout that, Alura had been sitting very still, her eyes closed, only the tightening of her grip proving that she was even aware of the conversation. Once the two Consulars were out, though, she took a deep, shaky breath.

And even as Lara turned to console her, Kal-El rounded on his father. "Zor-El was not mad! How can you even say such a thing?"

"Of course not," Jor-El snapped back, showing just where his son had inherited that temper. "I said what was needful to get them out of this house!"

"And Zor-El did what was needful," Alura said, her voice breaking. "What he _thought_ was needful. Oh, if only … if only he hadn't…." With that she began to sob, turning blindly into Lara's embrace.

Lara held her close, but she had no words of comfort. None that were true. She and her sister-in-law had always been closer than the brothers they'd married. Sometimes Lara thought that if she and Alura hadn't been friends, the sons of the House of El would have stopped speaking to one another years ago. They had compared notes on the two brothers, tried to ameliorate the worst of their quarrels, rejoiced in their children together, and weathered the journey here despite all obstacles.

Lara had been the first to know about the night that had turned out to be Kara's conception, and she'd been the one to reassure Alura that she and Zor-El weren't the first in that situation, and that procedures were already in place to handle such missteps. Her historical perspective had meant she could deal with that knowledge without seeing her sister-in-law as some kind of regressive, even if she hadn't had her own personal experience to consider. Which, to be perfectly honest, many more Kryptonians were partaking of such comfort at the time than anyone but the historians, biologists, and doctors knew about.

And now, though their culture said that weeping one someone else's shoulder was both a sign of emotional instability and a possible vector for contagion, Lara couldn't care less. Alura was her friend, the sister she'd never had, and the idea of spurning her at this moment was unthinkable.

Jor-El had left the room, muttering something about needed more information. And Kal-El was hovering awkwardly near before he finally dropped to one knee beside them both. "Alura, I am sorry," he murmured.

She pulled away from Lara then, dashing tears from her eyes. "So was Zor-El. And look where it got _him_."

"Once things are righted, he can be freed from the Phantom Zone," Kal-El said.

"You naïve boy," Alura said, but it was with affection warring with the grief on her face. Her voice wavered, but there was no doubt in it. "My husband meant to kill Dru-Zod. Do you honestly think that dog of his let him _live_?"

"Careful," Lara murmured. They'd checked time and again for any listening devices in this house, and found nothing, but that was no guarantee, and Alura's grief could only excuse so much. And the look of betrayal the other woman turned on her broke Lara's heart afresh.

"Mother is right," Kal-El murmured, and took his aunt's hand, his voice barely more than a breath. "We must be careful. Especially now. But I swear to you, Alura, wrongs will be righted."

A chill ran down Lara's spine at those words, knowing what she knew about Kal-El's recent involvement. She wanted to caution him, but it was far too late for that. This was like the moment the transport ships had broken free of gravity leaving Krypton-that-was; they were all rushing toward a conclusion that none of them had yet seen, with no chance of turning back.

Alura thanked her nephew, and he went to speak to his father. Lara rubbed her sister-in-law's back consolingly. Thank Rao that little Kara was asleep, giving her mother time to compose herself … though eventually they would have to tell her, too.

…

As a member of the Science Council, Jor-El had access to privileged channels of information. So he wasted no time on the planet-wide gossip, and sought official communications only. And what he found took his breath away as if it had been a physical impact.

Zor-El was dead.

Ursa had been injured.

And Supreme Chancellor Zod still reigned.

"You fool," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jor-El's eyes stung, and a headache threatened. His brother, his brash and brilliant brother, was no more. No chance for a new accord, no time forgive all the wrongs between them, just … nothing. A void like space, but without the comfort of stars to steer by. Jor-El was adrift, with no idea of how to proceed or what to do next.

In the other room, he could hear Alura keening. She had needed no official bulletin; she knew her husband had died. If only he could have taken Dru-Zod down with him….

That was a shocking thought to have for any civilized Kryptonian. Their society had done away with the death penalty, and no violent deaths had occurred in living memory. To wish for another's death was simply _not done_. To wish for another to be murdered, no matter what that individual had done, would be seen as a character flaw indicative of mental instability.

Yet Jor-El could not find it within himself to be horrified. Not anymore. As angry as he'd often been with Zor-El, as much as his brother had frustrated him, he had never imagined a time when Zor-El would not be there. And though some would surely say that his end was justified in that he'd attempted to assassinate the Supreme Chancellor, Jor-El knew that Dru-Zod was ultimately responsible for his brother's death. Had he only stepped down from power once they were established on this world, all of this could have been avoided. But Jor-El knew now that Dru-Zod would never relinquish power.

His son's voice startled him out of his reverie. "Father? I know this is a trying time, Father. I have always found your lab a comfort."

Turning, he saw the serious look on Kal-El's face, and understood the meaning of that nonsensical remark. "As have I, my son," Jor-El replied, and did not expect the roughness of his own voice until he heard it. He sounded like … well, like a man who had lost a brother suddenly.

The two of them proceeded to the lab, where Jor-El switched on the sonic generator that would mask them from any listening devices. The device, which had been a source of frustration before, was turning into an unexpected boon. Before his son could speak, Jor-El said quietly, "Zor-El is no more."

Kal-El was visibly shocked, and Jor-El realized this was the first time that someone close to him had passed on. He blinked, and mastered himself with obvious effort. "So Alura is right. Father, I … I cannot comprehend how this must feel for you."

"Nor can I, in truth," Jor-El replied. "It does not yet feel like reality."

At that, Kal-El sighed. "Nothing has felt like reality for months. But seeing what has happened today, Father, I cannot … I have no wish to hide things from you any longer. Not when any of us could be in danger at any moment."

"I have seen to it, at great personal cost, that none of my House will come under suspicion," Jor-El countered. "You are safe, my son."

Kal-El shook his head. "Not if Dru-Zod learns that over half the humans are no longer on this planet, and Lois was among the first to leave."

_Jhan-Or_. That scheming old poltroon was behind this. Throughout Kal-El's life, Jor-El had sheltered and guided him, keeping him out of the worst of the political maneuvering. All so that his son might never learn the same fears that robbed _him_ of his sleep. And here Kal-El was telling him that he had not only gotten involved with the plotters, but was actively aiding them. "_What_ did you just say?"

To his surprise, the thundering tone didn't dissuade his son in the slightest. In fact, Kal-El nearly matched it. "It is wrong to keep hostages for so petty a reason as mining rights. The humans should never have been brought here against their will. We had the technological superiority all along to approach them with care and consideration, to keep ourselves safe while negotiating to acquire what they have an excess of. The only possible reasons why we did not manage the situation that way are carelessness and malice. I do not believe the Supreme Chancellor is capable of making such a mistake as to provoke the humans unintentionally. Do you, Father?"

Jor-El could only stare at his son. He remembered what it was to be so young and full of fire, so idealistic that the only justification he ever needed was 'because it is wrong'. He also remembered the folly of those days had landed them in their present situation. Could there have been another way to save the people of Krypton-that-was, as Zor-El had suggested to him? Could the exodus have been accomplished without Dru-Zod at the helm? They would never know.

At last, he was left with only the truth. "No, I do not believe this conflict was begun by mistake. Dru-Zod arranged it to keep himself in power longer. And yes, bringing the humans here was unethical and an offense to all Kryptonian ideals. But my son … do you not think you have gotten involved far beyond your depth?"

Kal-El actually chuckled. "Father, I have been out of my depth for months. There are greater schemes about than even I am aware of. Aiding the human Resistance and the Kryptonian Rebellion is the only option of which I am certain that I am acting in accord with my principles."

"I told you not to become directly involved," Jor-El replied. "I did not ask that out of cowardice. I wanted you to be _safe_."

"None of us are safe. Not while he reigns." Kal-El said it so calmly that Jor-El felt on the verge of outrage. Did the boy not know what he was playing at?

"And you would endanger us all? Your mother? For such simple, childish idealism?" It broke Jor-El's heart to say it, and to remember when he too had believed that justice would always prevail, that one man with the will to do what was right could change the fate of an entire people. Time to contemplate his choices had made him more cynical.

"Father, if I am caught, I can truthfully say my decisions were made without your knowledge or input," Kal-El replied. "But this _must_ be done. Without the human hostages, the Supreme Chancellor has no leverage against Earth, and more importantly, we no longer have a quarrel with them. The Rebellion can then proceed against him without worrying about a flanking maneuver from the Resistance."

Jor-El scoffed. "And that is why you got involved? Because Jhan-Or convinced you it was the first step to the glorious rebirth of Kryptonian democracy?"

Kal-El shook his head. "No, Father. I would have attempted something like this _without_ him, and was fortunate to have use of his experience and resources. His plans and mine interwove neatly, but it is simply a case of separate goals making common cause. I could not have kept Lois captive like some sort of _pet_ any longer. I could not bear it. Father…" He took a deep breath, and let it out, a curious mixture of worry and determination on his face. "…I love her."

At that pronouncement and all it implied, Jor-El's jaw actually dropped.

…

Turmoil in the aftermath, the whole of the Consulars boiling with dismay and undirected rage. What made Dru-Zod a leader was that he strode among it with a calm mien and a stern voice, forging order and purpose out of the frothing chaos. That he had emerged unscathed despite the blood-flecked, shattered crystal that had once been his office wall only aided his cause.

Even as he dispatched reinforcements to the shipbuilding facility, where security had been relaxed in error, and directed the cleanup and repair of the Council building offices, Dru-Zod felt none of the composure he displayed. _Ursa was wounded._ The most loyal of all his soldiers, perhaps the only person on this entire world who truly understood him and shared his vision, and that fatherless Rao-forsaken old fool Zor-El had managed to harm her. Dru-Zod wanted nothing more than to bring him back to life just long enough to kill him again. How _dare_ he! If she died, the traitor's wife and child would pay for the crime. He would see to it _himself_.

Ursa had assured him, before being swept away to the medical facility, that her injuries were only minor. Still, she would say that no matter what, not wanting him to be concerned over her. Her selfless devotion was normally a priceless treasure, but now it brought him only further worry.

He could not allow his men to see him unsettled, however. Forcing his mind to focus on strategy reaped other benefits: this situation could be turned to his advantage. Such an unprecedented attack, and by such a well-known fanatic … if Dru-Zod _appeared_ to respond with compassion and sorrow for Zor-El's derangement, his position would be cemented.

He allowed himself a slow smile. Perhaps the widow Alura might best be employed by him, housed here in safety from radical elements that would seek revenge or to exploit her. Yes, that would be perfect, and it would keep her and whatever she knew about Zor-El's plans away from the rest of these rebellious fools. Dru-Zod did not fully believe her repudiation of her husband; the pair had been married too long for his actions to come as a surprise. By taking her statements as sincere, he could keep a potential dissenter under control _and_ show himself to be a more forgiving leader than even the Science Council had ever been.

Such delightful irony. And on the heels of that thought, better news arrived: the medical center reported that Ursa's injuries were superficial. She would be back on duty the following day. Dru-Zod allowed himself a smile, and in a moment of whim decided not to bother repairing the shattered wall of his office. It would stand as a reminder to all who came that attempts against his life were doomed to failure, and imply that he would not waste precious construction supplies even to repair his own office. The time was fast approaching when all confidential meetings would have to be conducted elsewhere, anyway.

Pleased by his own brilliance, Dru-Zod enjoyed a few moments of contentment before the next report came in. "Sir, there is a … situation at the construction facility," one of his Consulars said.

Dru-Zod would not have a coward in his ranks, but this young man was nearly shaking with apprehension. "What _else_ has happened?" he asked, restraining his temper. It might be only some bit of foolishness, reported directly only because all of them were half-mad with outrage….

His half-formed hope was not to be. "The traitor Zor-El, sir. He … he somehow managed to contaminate eighty percent of the growing solution vats." The young Consular winced at delivering that message, clearly expecting an outburst.

_Breathe. Rein it in, hold it back, __**use**__ this wrath and let it fuel you. __**Do not let it show.**_ "I see," Dru-Zod said, with a remarkable facsimile of calm. "Measures must be taken to ensure that no further disruptions are allowed to happen. The moment Ursa is released from medical, I will want her and all of my other captains for an emergency meeting. See to it that message is carried to all of them, Consular."

The young man saluted, "Yes, sir, Supreme Chancellor."

Only once he had left did Dru-Zod realize the grinding sound he heard was not fragments of crystal being swept away. It was his own teeth, clenched in white-hot fury. _The remainder of the House of El had best be loyal,_ he thought. _If they wish to survive._


	43. Birth of a Song, Death of a Dream

**Okay, so this formatting and I are about to throw down. As I can't get it to present correctly, bear with the look of the lyrics below. I just can't get it to work the way the excerpts in other stories have, but I think they suit a certain pair too perfectly not to add them in here.**

* * *

General Lane typically wore fatigues in the field, just like his men, but today he even went without his medals. _That_ was a rarity. It was currently the fashion among military leaders to wear every single bit of decoration one had ever earned, though Sam didn't follow that. He'd once glared at one-star general with a chest full of meaningless stripes and remarked, "Forgot your Boy Scout popcorn sales fundraiser badge." One of the highest-achievers in his field, Sam was entitled to a great deal of ribbon and braid, though he ordinarily wore just a few of great personal importance—and being without those now left him feeling strangely undressed.

Still, he had to look as much as possible like just another grunt today. Rifle in hand, Sam mingled with his soldiers as they gathered to supervise the unloading of the empty shipping containers that would take the current batch of salt to New Krypton. Well, _supposedly_ empty. The whole reason why he was here was to receive the latest group of freed humans—and some promised information.

The Kryptonians had just one of their military personnel supervising the entire operation, but then, the majority of the actual mining was carried about by machines. The engineering staff had been doubled, and even so consisted of just ten people. All of them sympathetic to the human cause. They were all wary of the one … _Consular_, that's what they were called, Sam remembered. Not just military, but somewhere between military police and the equivalent of Delta Force, essentially. The elite, and according to the intelligence he'd received, all fanatically loyal to the Supreme Chancellor who had once been General Zod, and their commander.

Even as the Vice Chief of Staff, a highly-decorated officer, and a career Army man, General Lane knew that it wasn't always wise to have a career military officer in the highest seat of power. Oh sure, some military experience was preferable, as little else gave a man—or woman—the right perspective on public office as service to one's country. But someone who lived and breathed military discipline and military rules of engagement, placed in a position of near-limitless power with none of the checks and balances of American democracy? That made this Zod a man to be feared.

The Consular only gave the empty shipping containers a superficial glance before they were loaded into the processing facility. Grown entirely from crystal 'seeds' about twice the length of a man's hand, these buildings and all the equipment in them had been set up in under a week. General Lane wanted to get his hands on that technology so badly his teeth itched. It would revolutionize so much about the world … but he had a job to do right now, and that meant sauntering along like an ordinary soldier on a boring detail.

Within the processing facility, the environment was completely controlled by the same crystals that made up the walls, ceiling, and floor. Temperature, humidity, and air quality were all maintained at levels comfortable for the Kryptonians. To Sam, the air was almost _too_ pure. Even the fresh mountain air of some of his more remote installations had a little tang of pine on the breeze, but this was completely sterile. It made him uncomfortable, as did the cleaning robots that literally followed in his squad's footsteps, erasing every little fleck of dirt that came from their shoes. He was uncomfortably reminded of Ella scolding him for not wiping his feet. But then, the robots were also removing any threads from clothing and shed hairs or skin cells. Absolutely no forensic trace would be left of this visit.

Once all the containers were inside, the Consular left them, and the engineers took over. Sam followed the containers as the hidden compartments were revealed … but this time, far fewer humans stepped out. "Only five?" he asked gruffly.

The nearest engineer—a woman, with pale blonde hair worn back off her face and piercing dark eyes—answered him. "Security has been increased on New Krypton," she said, her voice slightly digitized. All the Kryptonians on Earth wore mechanized suits that protected them from the planet's 'impure' atmosphere any time they went outside, as well as in rooms that opened directly outside. General Lane thought it likely that they were also insulating themselves against this primitive planet and its people.

The scientists' suits were white, and had all manner of sophisticated sensors built in while still managing to fit relatively close. They added only a foot of height overall. By contrast, the Consular's suit was black and bristled with weapons, with extended stride and reach that made it ten feet tall. Sam figured that one was much more of what any fan of science fiction would consider a mecha-suit. He understood that communications were also built into all the suits, but the engineers had worked out a way to jam the Consular's signal, and pretended the same fault applied to their own as well, blaming the problem on solar radiation or microwave transmissions, he couldn't remember which.

For the moment, he gave his attention to the woman who had spoken. Her statement sounded like the tip of the proverbial iceberg—and Sam felt uncomfortably like the captain of a ship running blind across a night sea. "And why is that?"

She didn't answer immediately, darting a significant look his way before striding to the corridor that lead to the offices and living spaces, where humans were forbidden to go. Sam hesitated just a moment before following; he had other priorities first.

The other men were taking charge of the human refugees, all of them blinking and staring like newborn foals. No one in this group was any kind of leader in the Resistance, General Lane could tell at a glance. Perhaps with enhanced security measures, the remaining leadership was lying low so as to keep from being caught. Frustrating, but it meant he could turn his back on them without regret.

He did catch one lieutenant's eye and gave the man a slow nod before carefully following up on the Kryptonian scientist. Sam had barely stepped into the corridor when she appeared, beckoning him to a doorway.

It could be a trap … but his intuition said otherwise, and Sam went into the room without showing any trace of doubt. The crystal door slid down behind him—another eerie thing he could never get used to—and the woman seemed to sigh in relief. Then she spoke without preamble or hesitation. "The news may reach you from the humans we transported today, or from the communications we bring. If not, however, you must be aware of the situation on New Krypton. There has been an assassination attempt upon Supreme Chancellor Zod."

Sam caught his breath. "Are you serious? Damn, that's premature! I thought your people were going to wait until all of mine were home to make your move."

"It was not _our_ people," she corrected. "There is another faction rebelling against his rule. They are younger and more impatient. We do not yet know the entire story, but it appears that some members launched an ill-advised and un-approved sortie against the current military construction. They escaped, but wounded several Consulars. That is, of course, virtually unheard of among our people."

A non-violent society that abhorred touch having to deal with its elite military force being taken by surprise and actually injured … yes, he could see how that would be a shock. The General in him growled at the culpability of soldiers caught off guard.

The engineer continued to speak in the same low, rapid tone. Their time might be limited and she meant to convey as much information as possible. "The leader of that faction chose to take the blame himself, and knowing he would be hunted down for his treason, he took extreme measures. The Supreme Chancellor was unharmed, but his right hand, Ursa, who is called the Hound of Zod, was slightly wounded."

Oh, _Hell_. A slight wound to that megalomaniac's favorite follower was worse than a grievous one. This Ursa, of whom General Lane had heard much and all of it worrisome, would be on her feet and causing trouble again in no time. That wouldn't stop Zod from being savagely vindictive over her injury, though. "Just what we don't need," he muttered.

"There is more. Ursa killed the traitor. Understand, our people have not come to armed combat amongst our own for centuries, excepting only the revolution that placed Dru-Zod in power. It was a terrible shock to much of the population. Worse, the leader of the rebel faction who lost his life? Was Zor-El, brother of Jor-El. Both of them are highly respected members of the Science Council—"

"And Jor-El's the only one with any sway over Zod," Sam finished. "Might as well count on him not being able to help, one way or another. Which means we're in for a helluva ride, until this is over."

"On the contrary, _my_ superior believes the loss will increase Jor-El's resolve," the engineer told him. "And now you must go, General Lane. Further details will surely be transmitted to you."

"Thank you," he told her, and was out of the building before realizing he'd never gotten her name.

It was irrelevant. All that mattered now was getting the last of their people off that damned planet … and getting their own counter-measures in place.

And one more thing. Finding his wayward daughter.

…

On New Krypton, a series of rapid changes fell into place in the wake of Zor-El's death. Everything happened so quickly that the populace was still in shock, and no outcry was raised. The measures seemed sensible to most people … at first.

All such weapons as Zor-El had used were banned. Anyone who had such a weapon was given two days to turn it in with amnesty; after that, possession of one became a crime on the level of treason.

The tools from which those weapons were developed became restricted to only the miners whose use of them was legitimate. Every such tool had a serial number encoded in it, and every one was to be accounted for at the end of the day and returned to the security of a vault in the mining office. A Consular personally checked that it was done, and the penalty for falsifying records would be as severe as if that individual had stolen the tools with the intent to use them as weapons.

Salt was officially a controlled substance, and all of it that arrived henceforth would be held by the Supreme Chancellor's hand-picked representatives for distribution as Dru-Zod saw fit. That most of it would go to military construction was obvious to anyone with the sense to read the shifting political winds. Families would receive a strict ration according to their dietary needs. Of course, there was no way to know how much was privately held before the restrictions took effect, and _that_ could be bartered for, if one was discreet enough. Overnight, the price of salt on the black market increased tenfold.

And lastly, the humans were under strict control, confined within the homes of their hosts. Random checks of the tracking crystals were to be increased, and any human found outdoors and unattended by a Kryptonian would be immediately arrested. It went unsaid, but was obvious that many suspected the humans of some sort of collusion in the attacks. Jor-El worried about that, but Kal-El had just shaken his head with a secretive smile. Apparently the Benevolent Society already had plans in place to deal with such restrictions, despite the fact that humans were being smuggled off-planet.

Those changes made sense to the people. But the next one, a general curfew, raised some muttering. No one was to be abroad from one hour past sundown to one hour before sunrise; anyone found outdoors during those hours would be brought in for questioning by the regular patrols. Any and all travel during the restricted hours had to be approved by one of a group of Consulars assigned to that purpose. This was said to be for safety, but it made dinner gatherings much more difficult to arrange, and complaints were lodged. The Supreme Chancellor himself broadcast the message that the measure was temporary, and that the people must be patient; he held their safety in higher regard than their comfort. The fact that the message was broadcast from his office, with the shattered crystal wall in plain view, silenced much of the discontent.

Jor-El saw all of that, and worried. His concern grew when three young Kryptonians were arrested as part of a conspiracy to avenge Zor-El by destroying the Council Dome itself, and all the offices within—not just Dru-Zod's. There would not even be a trial; the case was presented to the Science Council _fait accompli_, with their guilt and punishment already determined by the Consulars.

Not that he wasn't already aware of the ambitions of the discontented youth. What bothered Jor-El was that the evidence against the three could only have been gathered by covert surveillance, and no one else on the Science Council seemed to notice. They were all too frightened by the intent to attack _them_.

When he attempted to speak up, they turned as one and silenced him with threats of censure. Jor-El could not help feeling a fatalistic _déjà vu_. This had happened before, when he tried to warn them of the impending cataclysm, and they had shut their ears and minds rather than face a danger so great. That day was the direct cause of this one; Jor-El had shared information with General Zod, and had warned him of the Council's intent to arrest him. If not for that, they would all have perished on Krypton-that-was.

If not for that, Dru-Zod would not have become Supreme Chancellor.

Was it worth it? To have survived the apocalypse only to face this new threat? This time he had no allies outside his own House, no savior with an army at hand to take control of the situation and _force _the Council to do what was best for all Krypton. Jor-El knew better than to approach any of the people he knew or suspected were involved with the Rebellion. He was too well-known an associate of Dru-Zod's. The only one who would even listen to him was Kal-El, and the very last thing he wanted to do was get his son even more involved in this fiasco.

Worse, Alura had accepted an offer from the Supreme Chancellor's office, and now worked in the Council Dome translating human languages. The position came with an office and secure living quarters inside the building itself. Jor-El had been incensed by the news, and Lara disbelieving, but Alura had only looked at them with hollow eyes and said, "Let Dru-Zod believe I am cowed and obedient. The closer I am, the more useful I may yet be." She refused to elaborate on whether or not she was already in contact with the rebels, or whether she meant to act alone.

Not even Lara's appeal to her to think of Kara helped. Alura had simply shaken her head. "She will be as safe as any of us. I thought too much of her immediate safety before, and not enough of long-term security. Now I must." And with that she had simply left. It had been the last time they'd seen her, a visit solely to inform them both of the new position. According to gossip, she worked incredibly long hours, trying to stave off grief with purpose.

And then the situation became yet more complicated. As Jor-El left the Council Dome, brooding upon his circumstances and setting the whole of his intellect in search of _something_ he could do, a voice spoke at his elbow. "My condolences, Jor-El."

He turned to see Jhan-Or matching his pace. "Why offer condolences on the death of an avowed traitor?" Jor-El asked, keeping his voice cold. He did not and could not trust this man; further, he had no fellowship in his heart for Jhan-Or, who had led Kal-El into the poisonous tangles of treason.

"We are not so many that the loss of any one of us is not to be mourned," Jhan-Or replied diplomatically, then added, "No matter what else Zor-El became, he was a genius. And a man devoted to his principles. I can admire those traits even as I acknowledge the destruction they can wreak upon a person."

Was he sincere? Or was he seeking some leverage? Jor-El couldn't decipher it, and didn't trust himself to guess. Not where Jhan-Or was concerned. The biologist did not scruple against using blackmail and intimidation to get his way, though of course nothing could ever be proved against him. So Jor-El said only, "If you are attempting to goad me into making a potentially disloyal remark, then you are wasting your time, Jhan-Or."

"I would not dream of it, Jor-El. You are far too wise and cautious for sedition." That seemed like all he would say, and Jor-El prepared to increase his pace just enough to escape his presence, but then Jhan-Or spoke again. "Except the once, that is. And to that one rash act we all owe our lives. Do not speak, Jor-El, I would not have your carefully-crafted answers with no substance behind them. We both know how the situation lies. I wished only to remember your brother to you, and to tell you one other thing."

"And what is that?" he asked, his voice flat.

"That you are the last one of us with any influence upon _him_," Jhan-Or murmured, not even daring to name Dru-Zod. "Be careful how you use it. The time is not yet right to make a bold move. Remember your caution, Jor-El. You will know when the time _is_ right." With that, it was Jhan-Or who stepped away. To an onlooker, the two men might have passed a few casual words before parting ways.

Jor-El let that warning—for warning it surely was—sink in. Before going to the Council, he had been thinking of making a bid to unseat the Supreme Chancellor before he could consolidate his hold further. Jhan-Or seemed to advise against it … but he might only be trying to delay Jor-El for his own ends.

A few hours of fruitless thought, theorizing upon every probability and circumstance until his head ached, left Jor-El no wiser than before. All he could do was what his intuition indicated—and what his principles demanded. He had compromised only once in his life, tacitly agreeing to Dru-Zod's bid for power because it had seemed the only way to save their people.

No, twice. For he had been silent when the Council demanded it of him. They had delivered dire threats, and for the sake of his wife and of their child growing in the birthing matrix, he had obeyed. The decision seemed wise, when one considered the fate of Non. And later, he had revealed everything to Dru-Zod, who might have been a spy, but Jor-El's intuition told him he could be trusted.

The memory of those days pained him now. He and so many others had seen the courageous General as a savior; the tentative friendship between them had solidified during the months leading up to the exodus. Jor-El still believed that Dru-Zod had felt genuine regret for what had become of Non, and for those non-believers who had remained behind on Krypton-that-was. The man he had known and trusted, whose company he enjoyed despite the differences in upbringing and philosophy, was still somewhere within the tyrant who now ruled New Krypton.

Perhaps there was still time to save them all. Jor-El requested an audience with the Supreme Chancellor, and to his surprise was granted one within the hour. Perhaps that was best. He had no time in which to over-think his appeal.

All too soon, he was walking up the corridor toward Dru-Zod's office. To his surprise, the other man met him there, placing a hand on his shoulder. "My friend, you have my deepest sympathies," Dru-Zod said quietly. From the look in his eyes to the careful touch, he was utterly sincere.

That was … unexpected, at least, and Jor-El felt optimism rising. "Thank you, Dru-Zod, but I did not come to speak of my brother. I can only hope that he has found what he sought so vehemently."

"That is my wish for him as well," Dru-Zod sighed. "Come, then, and let me know what I can do for you. Not in my office—I will not have so petty a thing as a wall repair expedited when greater matters await us. There is another office here we can use." And saying that, he led Jor-El down a side corridor to a smaller room without the large, imposing desk that dominated his own office.

That left them facing each other with only a narrow table between them, Dru-Zod leaning forward with an intent look in his gray-blue eyes. "Speak, my friend."

"It is not for myself that I have come," Jor-El said earnestly, leaning forward as well. Had he thought of it, he would have intentionally mirrored Dru-Zod's posture, one of the many little tricks of getting cooperation that all politicians of his class knew. Instead, he was operating on intuition, which he privately thought of as the part of his brain that was smarter than all the rest, and knew things instantly that it would take long minutes for logic to conclude. It had rarely led him astray.

"I came here for _you_, Dru-Zod. I am worried for your safety. There is much dissatisfaction amongst the people, such that even I have heard rumors of it."

"And what have you heard?" Dru-Zod asked, in a silken voice.

Jor-El knew better than to be entrapped. "Nothing specific, just grumblings of unhappiness. No one would dare reveal anything important in my hearing, as they all know I am your friend." The latter part of the statement was true, and Jor-El had buried his knowledge of his son's plans so deeply that he could speak the former part without appearing to lie. "I fear that the recent outbreaks of rebellion are symptoms of that larger discontent, and that dealing sternly with the dissenters and enacting yet more stringent laws is exacerbating the problem, not alleviating it."

Dru-Zod only looked at him, a strange light in his eyes. "Speak plainly, Jor-El. A friend as loyal as you need not couch your concerns in the graceful words of politicians. Nor should you fear that there will be any repercussions for what you say to me in the privacy of this office."

He took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. "Dru-Zod. You are a military man, but the measures that function perfectly within the ranks simply do not work on the free men and women of Krypton. Dealing harshly with them will only make them hate you—_you_, who so recently were lauded as the savior of our entire race! And if they come to despise you, I dread that the next step beyond these isolated attacks will be full-scale, open revolt against you."

There, it was said, without incriminating anyone—especially not himself. The warning was given as caution instead of censure. So why did Jor-El suddenly feel as if he were standing at the bottom of an outward-slanting cliff, with tons of merciless stone hanging above him.

For a long moment, Dru-Zod simply watched him, weighing his words. When he finally spoke, his voice was curious, not angry or worried. "Tell me, my old friend, why should I fear open revolt?"

That response stunned Jor-El. "What do you mean?"

"Why should I fear them? Scientists and scholars, most of whom have never held a weapon. Your brother was as much an innovator as you are, Jor-El—he had the cunning to adapt a tool to his use. Most of our people lack that. Their minds are as closed as the Science Council's. At best they can stand beneath my window and shout their defiance. What is that to me?"

"You do not care that they would stand against you?" Jor-El asked in horrified isbelief. "That so many malcontents might even sway the Science Council into asking you to step down?"

Dru-Zod smiled then, and it was a terrible thing to see the amusement in his eyes. "My friend, _I have an army_. And even if the regular military force were to choose loyalty to the Council in such a situation—a very far-fetched idea, as even the lowliest recruit knows who has sheltered and guided them for decades—even if they turned against me, the Consulars owe their loyalty solely to me. Not the Science Council, not the rest of the chain of command, certainly not the people. They are _my_ army, and I would set them against the rest of our military without hesitation."

The battle was already lost. Jor-El could only stare at Dru-Zod. At last he stood revealed: coldly and calculatingly planning to remain in power indefinitely, even against the will of his constituents. A true dictator such as Krypton had not known for centuries. And Jor-El had placed him there.

While he sat mute and horrified, Dru-Zod rose, and clapped a hand to his shoulder again. "Do not fear, my friend. I have the situation well in hand. And now our time is sadly up, and I must go meet with the Bureau of Human Affairs. However, do not hesitate to seek me out. I will always make time for the House of El."

And for some reason, that sounded like a threat.

…

Meanwhile, in a remote canyon far from regular patrols, Kal-El found a pool of water hollowed from the rock. There was nothing here, no reason for anyone to explore this place, and therefore it was perfect for his purpose. The water was collected rain, and utterly pure. But he had the remedy for that. Kal-El had brought the salt that Jhan-Or had given him as a cover story, and now he added it to the pool, stirring thoroughly. A quick test of its salinity revealed that it would work perfectly for his intent.

He removed the seed crystal he had carefully prepared for this moment, and placed it into the water. There was a momentary flash of light, and though he could not detect it, Kal-El knew an electromagnetic pulse was released simultaneously. That was another reason to seek out this secluded location. The crystal glowed golden-white within the water, and Kal-El watched it for a moment as many points began to grow from it. With luck, this would be his backup plan: a ship to carry the last human hostages to Earth.

A ship he meant to pilot there himself.

Kal-El looked up at the sky above, where the first stars were just beginning to show. He could not see Sol, but thought of Lois under its light. "I am coming to you, my love," he murmured, and then hastened away to get home before the curfew.

…

And on Earth, Lois stood at her window and looked up at the night sky. Somewhere out there was New Krypton, and Kal-El. Wishing she knew what was going on there, she rested her hand on the swelling curve of her belly and sighed.

Today Lana had taken measurements and, with no apparent effort, sewn three new empire-waist blouses that flattered her changing figure. Her pregnancy had never really been a secret in Smallville, but now it was blatantly obvious. In a town this small, she expected stares and rude remarks, and to be honest she'd gotten a few disdainful sniffs from certain women. That stopped when Lana sweetly offered them tissues for the cold they didn't have; the redhead really made the phrase 'kill them with kindness' come to life for Lois.

Everyone else cooed over her. It seemed like most of the people in town wanted to touch her belly, or offer advice, or share stories from their own adventures in childbirth. Lois had not at all been comforted by the revelation that the nearest actual hospital was over two hours away. An older woman she'd met at the store, Martha Kent, had seen her obvious anxiety and patted her hand gently. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Women in this town have been having children at home for over a hundred years. You'll do just fine." And then she'd scolded Lana for not feeding Lois up enough, and brought them both back to the Kent farmhouse for lunch.

This was not a way of life that Lois could ever envision herself sustaining for years on end. She would grow restless and fret at the unseen boundaries of custom and tradition all around her. But for now, this little bit of peace was the best thing for herself and for the growing daughter whose late-night acrobatics had Lois out of bed and staring out the window.

"You're going to know your father someday," Lois whispered, and patted her stomach. "I promise, little one. No matter what it takes."

* * *

_No, I'm not saying_

_I'm sorry_

_One day_

_Maybe we'll meet again_

_No, I'm not saying_

_I'm sorry_

_One day_

_Maybe we'll meet again_

_NO! NO! NO! NO!_

_Can you, can you can you_

_Can you imagine a time_

_when the truth ran free_

_The birth of a song_

_and the death of a dream_

_Closer to the edge_

_This never ending story_

_Paid for with pride and fate_

_We all fall short of glory_

_Lost in our fate._

**_~30 Seconds to Mars, Closer to the Edge_**


	44. Storm Winds Rising

Spending the spring and summer in Kansas had a few unexpected complications for Lois. She'd lived in lots of places with lots of interesting weather, from the heavy rains of the summer monsoon in the Philippines to the snowy winters in Germany. But she'd never lived in Tornado Alley before, and the local preoccupation with the weather caught her by surprise.

Her first indication was the amount of conversation outside the general store, where Lois and Lana found themselves stopping in every few days as much for a change of scenery as well as to buy supplies. There were always several older men hanging out in the rocking chairs on the front porch, and if Lois so much as hesitated there for two seconds one of them would chivalrously offer her his seat. At first she felt awkward, but as her pregnancy progressed she found herself grateful for the chance to sit down for a spell, as they said. She came to know all the general store regulars by name, and some of the stories they had to tell were fascinating.

Of course she knew people were talking behind her back. Lois wasn't that naïve. She was young, from out of town, pregnant and unmarried: all those things made her the lightning rod for gossip. But people were always nice to her face, and she got the feeling that the old-timers liked her. They certainly smiled and laughed easily with her. When she grilled Lana on the subject, Lois found out that most of the town felt she was basically a good girl with bad timing—and almost all of them believed the boy who'd gotten her in a family way deserved to be hung up by his heels.

When she stopped in to sit with them, the men outside the general store all made small talk with her for a moment or two, and then inevitably the conversation would return to the weather. It seemed as though every smallest detail had intense importance, and each man had his own tried-and-true sayings. They even _argued_ about which TV meteorologist was most accurate, and which ones were completely adrift.

Lois only half-paid attention to that, most of the time. There was nothing she could do about the weather, after all. March was abysmal, cold and damp, and between storms and melting snow the roads had been awful. After her time on New Krypton, the snow was a novelty again, at first. But that renewed childish delight had mellowed to its usual frustrating familiarity as the late winter had worn on. And, too, not all the roads in Smallville were paved; on their trips Lois often saw farmers using their tractors to pull cars out of mudholes or ditches. "Does that happen a lot?" she'd asked Lana one day, when it seemed like every side-road they passed had a stranded motorist on it.

The redhead had chuckled. "Oh yes. People follow their GPS down dirt roads when they really shouldn't. In winter they skid on the ice, in spring they get stuck in the mud. Most of the farmers won't charge for a pull-out, but then again, they won't refuse a little gratuity, either. You should've seen this when I was a kid—state road 210 would wash out every spring. The Roys' farm is out there, and John's father Gene used to have a pair of plow horses until John bought the tractor. He'd yoke them up, hitch them to a car, and pull people out of the muck that way." Lois had shaken her head; it felt surreal to be living someplace where only a generation ago, fields had been plowed by literal horsepower.

April brought warmer temperatures and scattered showers, but even those were warm, and Lois spent more time outside. She needed the distraction; she was growing restless and tried hard not to show it. Thank God Lana had fast broadband internet access, but Lois couldn't log in to any of her accounts, not knowing what her father had under surveillance. For the same reason she couldn't try to find information on her mother and sister, not that she would've been able to crack Witness Protection's security, anyway. At least she could browse and play games.

By the end of April, the weather was delightful. Warm, sunny days with occasional afternoon storms, and pleasant nights when crickets and cicadas sang in the long grass at twilight. Lois took long strolls around town, helped Lana with a bit of gardening even though she'd always had a black thumb, and read her way through almost all of the town library's historical autobiographies while sitting in the courtyard.

As much as Lois loved the turn in the weather, the front-porch crowd seemed to be wary of it. She would've expected older men to prefer warm weather, since they'd spent the spring complaining bitterly of how the damp and cold ached in their old bones. Instead, she and Lana dropped in one day to a lively discussion of 'tornado weather'. Lois had known the Midwest was prone to tornadoes, but she made the mistake of asking, "It's not really all _that_ bad, is it?"

That was the classic out-of-towner question, and the assembled old-timers all looked at her in frank disbelief. "Miss Sarah, have you ever _seen_ a twister?" Al Lutter asked her.

By now, she was finally used to answering to her assumed name. "Only on TV," she replied.

"TV ain't much better'n a picture," Will Ellzey said disdainfully. "Don't even get the _sound_ right. Like a freight train coming right down on top o' you."

"Not all of 'em are s' loud," Fred Thomas put in. "The one up Hartwell way in '63 didn't make no sound 'tall. Not 'til it ripped the roof off'n ever' building on Main Street 'cept the bank."

"Nah, that's _'55_ you're thinking of," Al Lutter said. "There weren't no big twisters in '63."

"Yes, 'twas '63," Will Ellzey put in. "My ma's family live up in Hartwell. Twister blew their house down, took all the silverware her aunt was polishin' and scattered all over the yard. There's still a dinner fork buried four inches into a tree trunk in their back yard."

"Couldna been '63," John Roy insisted.

For a moment it sounded like they were going to fall into bickering amongst themselves, and Lois half-closed her eyes, ready to doze. She was always tired lately. But then a new voice came in. "Not in 1963, no, but we had one right here in Smallville in '83. Came right through our farm."

Lois looked up. The speaker was a younger man than the group on the porch, but only young in comparison to them. He looked at Lois with bright blue eyes and offered her a smile. She hadn't met everyone in town yet, but the woman at his side gave her the hint. "Mr. Kent, isn't it?" she said, stretching out her hand.

He shook with her, his expression open and friendly. "Right indeed, and you're Miss Sarah Blodgett, Lana's friend. Pleased to meet you. I hope you're not letting these scoundrels scare you with wild tornado stories."

Lois shook her head, but before she could answer, the oldest man present spoke up. "Huh. Oughta scare her a little bit. Kids these days _try_ to see a tornado. Damn fools—pardon my language, ladies—_darn_ fools all over the weather channel. Get these fancy armored cars and chase twisters. Idiots." John Roy shook his head angrily.

Mr. Kent leaned against the railing as his wife went inside. "Well now, a tornado _is_ pretty darn scary. The one that came through here in '83 passed through our corn field. Me and Martha were in the storm cellar, safe as houses. _Safer_ than houses, when it comes to a tornado."

"Yup, and that was the one that picked up your chicken coop and dropped it over on the Hubbards' land, weren't it?" Fred Thomas said, his eyes sparkling.

Lois thought that _had_ to be a lie, but Mr. Kent nodded seriously. "Must've caught it with the very edge or it would've been torn to pieces. Instead it just blew the coop door off—blew the feathers right off most of the chickens, too. All the hens lived, but none of them would lay for a month."

"Listen to me, young lady," John Roy said suddenly. "If you ever think there might be a tornado comin'—hear it on the news, or see the sky turn green—you get your tail inside, y'hear? The Lang house has got a basement. Head down there and stay 'til the all-clear. It's nothing to play around with, no matter these fool children on the Weather Channel think a twister's all fun and games."

Having seen a few episodes of the show he was talking about, Lois didn't think that the scientists and amateur storm-chasers were foolish. They understood the power of the storms they witnessed, and they were fascinated by it. Besides, the more information they gathered, the better tornado-prediction got, and the more people were saved. "I promise, Mr. Roy. Is it really that bad out here, though?"

"Oh, we get a lot of tornadoes," Mr. Kent put in. "Most of them don't do much damage. Knock down some loose branches, peel off a few shingles, that sort of thing. The really dangerous ones are rare."

That reassured her, and the talk turned to the growing season. "'Twill be a good season. We had plenty storms in March," Al Lutter remarked. "'When March blows its horn, th' barn will be filled wi' corn.' A good sign, March storms are."

"Good for your crops, but not for my cows," Fred Thomas remarked. "Four of 'em got rain scald. Nothing sadder'n cows stuck in the barn lowing to be let out to pasture. Gotta keep 'em dry 'til it heals though."

Lois let herself doze as the men argued, each one of them having his own proven cure for the ailment. She felt rather sorry for the poor cows, from the sounds of half the remedies.

Surprisingly, not all of Lois' concerns were related to the weather; some were due to her advancing pregnancy, and she complained about those, too. It was no picnic trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in with her growing belly, and even if it had been, her baby liked to start practicing acrobatics around the time Lois laid down for bed. And when she finally _did_ fall asleep, she woke up every hour or two because she needed to go to the bathroom. Her growing daughter occupied most of the space inside her abdomen, leaving no room for her bladder. That mean the frequent pee-breaks continued through the day, and Lois muttered crankily that she hadn't expected a tour of every public bathroom in two counties.

Lois had noticed when she first returned to Earth and sent poor Perry out to buy bras that they'd become a little tight. By now, she was two full cup sizes larger, and her breasts were tender. As if that wasn't enough, she soon realized that she'd gone up a shoe size due to a combination of her feet swelling and, as Lana's pregnancy books informed her, her ligaments loosening up. Buying new shoes and bras was just the tip of the iceberg, though. Her entire wardrobe had to change, and for that Lois had had to turn to Lana. She had no money of her own whatsoever, and felt the weight of her debt increase almost daily. Lana, of course, waved it all off as nothing important. "I don't like having to depend on the kindness of strangers," Lois had admitted a month or so into her seclusion, and Lana had taken her hand with a small smile, telling her, "By this point we're hardly strangers anymore, don't you think?"

It was true; months had passed, and they'd grown to be friends despite what could've been an awkward situation. Lois couldn't help cringing a little at the reminders lying around—the books, the patterns for maternity clothes, the websites bookmarked on Lana's computer—that Lana badly wanted to be a mother, had apparently tried very hard to get pregnant, and now had to take care of Lois, who had gotten knocked up _accidentally_ at the tender age of seventeen. If the redhead hadn't been such a generous soul, they probably would've wound up loathing each other in jealousy and judgment. Instead, Lana seemed genuinely _happy_ for her.

As time passed, Lois' profile changed significantly, her belly large and round. Stretch marks had appeared, which Lois diligently rubbed with cocoa butter. There was nothing to be done for the dark line descending from her navel, which would've freaked her out if she hadn't read about it in advance. The _linea nigra_, it was called, which was just Latin for 'dark line' and immediately promoted to the head of Lois' list of unhelpful medical terms. It was just one more of the hormonal changes in her body, along with the sudden reappearance of acne and the way her wavy hair had grown even thicker and fuller.

No one knew how long a Kryptonian-human hybrid pregnancy would last, but all those signs pointed toward the end of the term. Lois was grateful. Despite all the inconveniences and setbacks, she was proud and happy, yet more than ready to meet her daughter at last and go back to feeling like herself again. She'd never quite valued her lithe, agile body before—tending to dismiss herself as tomboyish—but now that many daily tasks required planning and care, Lois missed who she'd been.

They had decided to perpetuate the fiction that 'Sarah' was seeing an obstetrician in Kansas City, suitably far away that no Smallville resident would ever bother to check. In reality, this pregnancy was proceeding without any medical supervision. Lana was incredibly well-versed, and the local midwife put Lois at ease, but there could be no amniocentesis, no sonogram, nothing that might show suspicious results.

For better or for worse, this baby was going to be a surprise.

…

Kal-El woke in the night to an urgent beeping from his front door. He stumbled out of Lois' room to answer it, his hair sticking up and his eyes only half-open. Who could possibly be out there at this hour, right in the middle of the curfew?

To his surprise, it was Nira Kor-En, looking disheveled and wild-eyed as if she'd _run_ here from her own home. The moment he opened the door, she barged in without invitation. "We are all in grave danger," she said, without preamble. "Tar-Kon has been arrested on suspicion of treason. It is only a matter of time before he implicates the rest of us.

_Now_ he was wide awake, and Kal-El scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to think. "How many humans are left? Twenty?"

"Fifteen," she replied. "We cannot get them out. There are no other ships leaving for three days. We must hide them instead. We might be able to convince the Consulars that they learned how to manipulate the tracking crystals and escaped."

Fifteen humans. Fifteen humans who would be trapped here, hiding from patrols, cowering like vermin while the wrath of Zod sought them out. Fifteen humans including Chao Huang, who had become Kal-El's primary contact and even something of a friend. Fifteen humans just like Lois, who had left their homes and families to come here. Fifteen humans who, like her, deserved to be more than bargaining chips—who deserved to go _home_.

Kal-El came to an abrupt decision. He had told himself his backup plan had been only that, a last chance in case anything went wrong, more theoretical than real. But now the worst had happened, time was against them, and he had to act or watch them all suffer. And he knew his course would not be blameless—his actions would reflect upon his House, and his parents had had too much grief already. Still, the danger the humans were now in was the greater evil, and it had to be fought first.

He took a deep breath. "No. I have a better way. Gather all the humans, and all the tracking crystals, and meet me at this location." He brought up his holographic screen and showed her the canyon where he had built the ship. Kal-El's heart was hammering the whole time, his conscience screaming at him for doing this to his parents. He wasn't even going to have a chance to speak to them beforehand.

"What are you planning to do?" Nira Kor-En asked.

Kal-El simply smiled. Despite everything, this felt _right_ in ways he could not have explained. It was his duty, to the humans, to Lois, and to the rest of the Rebellion. "My father designed the ships that brought us out of Old Krypton. It is only fitting that I have designed—and _built_—the one that will bring the humans back to Earth. I will pilot it as well."

"What about our military fleet?" she asked, ever practical.

"My ship should be faster," he replied. "But I hope that Jhan-Or has a surprise or two left to give me an edge. Hurry, Nira. Take word to the others. There's no time to waste."

"You are a brave young man, Kal-El," she said, and clasped his shoulder briefly before hurrying back out.

There was really no time left at all. No time to pack, even. Kal-El had food and other essential supplies stored with the ship—on some level he had always known it might come to this, no matter how far-off and dreamlike the prospect seemed—and simply grabbed some clothing to take with him.

Just before he ran outside, he thought of one more thing, and recorded a quick message for his parents. Of course the Consulars would eventually see it, so he had to be careful in his wording, but even that could be helpful. By necessity the message was short, and began with words of stark simplicity. "Mother, Father, I know that you will not approve of what I have done. I do not regret the choices I have made, even as I have had to keep them secret from you. I will not stop to ask your blessing; my errand is urgent. I only wish you to understand that I have done that which I feel is right and proper. I hope that you will not judge me too harshly…."

He could not take the hovercraft, as its lights would draw in the patrols, so this trip would by necessity be made on foot. The Consulars would not think to find any Kryptonian dashing about on ground level, off the paths and heading into the wilderness.

Despite the dread and danger, Kal-El felt a wild exhilaration building up inside him, spurring him to greater effort. _Lois, I'm coming. I'm finally coming after you._


	45. When Stormclouds Break

**Surprise, surprise! Due to the fact that the original chapter ran VERY long, you guys get an extra this week! Enjoy! ;)**

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On a weekend in late May, Lois and Lana headed to the general store. Lois was craving one of the huge kosher pickles that Silas kept in a barrel by the counter, and they had no other plans for the day anyway. They arrived in the midst of a heavy discussion on the front porch.

"Gonna rain by Monday," Thomas said. "Friday night was clear. And my cows are lying down in the field."

Ellzey disagreed. "Nah. There's no wind, and we had fog this morning. No weather's ill if the wind be still, and a summer fog for fair. Besides, my joint's 'd be achin' if a storm was coming."

"That fella on the news says there's a storm system out west coming our way, but it'll miss us and rain on Oklahoma instead," Roy put in.

Lois paid them only glancing attention, returning the smiles and waves. She could almost _smell_ those pickles, and Silas was dipping one out of the bucket for her even as she walked in. "Silas, you're a lifesaver," she sighed.

"No, I just remember when my wife was pregnant," he laughed. "I knew better than to get between her and whatever she was craving. Want another to go?"

Lois grinned and bit into the pickle. The perfect crunch, and that eye-watering sourness that she craved. "_Mmm_. Maybe. I dunno why these are so _good_ right now."

"Vitamins," Silas said with a shrug. "Or maybe something in one of the spices. Who knows? I don't argue with pregnant ladies." He grinned jokingly, and Lois laughed; she _had_ been moody on and off, but today was a good day.

Lana grabbed yet another carton of orange juice—something else Lois craved with a fiery passion—and after some more chitchat, she paid Silas and they headed back home.

Lois' restlessness was more pronounced than ever that weekend, much to Lana's annoyance. The redhead caught her trying to move the crib—a Lang family heirloom—after reorganizing her closet and dresser earlier in the day. The older woman stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes full of disbelief. "Good grief, Lois, _what_ has gotten into you? You can't go moving furniture in your condition!"

"It needs to be over _here_ so I can get right to her when she cries," Lois said stubbornly. "And it's not that heavy."

"Shoo, I'll move it for you," Lana said, coming into the room.

"I'm _pregnant_, not _crippled_," Lois snapped, her temper flaring forth.

Lana stopped, both hands on the crib, and looked at her for a moment. That was the redhead's typical response to Lois' anger. She didn't yell back, she didn't cringe, she never tried to pull a guilt trip. She just looked at Lois like she was now, a steady searching expression, and when she spoke Lana was calmer than ever. "It's not me you're mad at, Lois. And no, you're not crippled. But you do need to be a little careful, especially now."

"You're the one who said exercise was good for me," Lois muttered peevishly. She felt a little ashamed of her own temper, but Lana never scolded her.

"Exercise is, in moderation. Throwing your back out would be very, very bad." The redhead smiled then, and something about Lana meant Lois couldn't help but smile back. "You get that end, and I'll grab this end, and we'll move it together, okay?"

"Yeah," Lois finally sighed. "You're kinda too nice to be real, you know that?" She huffed a little on the question, picking up the crib, which wasn't _too_ heavy but certainly wasn't light, either.

"Not hardly." Lana chuffed a laugh, and waited until they moved the crib before looking at Lois. "Anyone as seethingly jealous as I am can't be _too_ nice. Just because I have more restraint than to _show_ it doesn't mean it doesn't rear its ugly green head once in a while."

"Jealous?" Lois asked, and then could've kicked herself for stupidity. She _knew_. Despite all of Lana's knowledge and preparedness, there wasn't a Pete Jr. running around the house, and that spoke volumes. The Rosses had evidently tried to have a baby, but…. "Lana, I'm sorry—"

"Don't be. It isn't your fault, Lois." Lana put one hand on Lois shoulder and gave her a gentle, sad smile. "Maybe this was all part of the plan. Maybe the reason I don't have a child of my own despite wanting one so badly is so that I'd be able to help _you_. Your daughter might be a _bit_ more complicated than mine would've been."

Lois' hand was resting on the upper curve of her belly again, with no memory of putting it there. It was just the spot her hand gravitated to at rest. She smiled back. "Yeah, I can imagine. It might get a little crazy, Lana."

"Crazier than escaping from military lockdown, stowing away on a cargo plane, hiding out with a newspaper editor, and then getting into a car with a complete stranger for a two-day trip to go live in small-town America with said stranger for a few months? Oh, and doing all this while pregnant and at an age when your biggest concern should've been what to wear to prom?" That time, Lana's grin was brighter. "I imagine your standard for 'crazy' is a bit higher than mine by now, Lois. The thing is, you have no choice except to go with it, and since you've become my friend, there's no way I'd refuse to help you."

Impulsively, Lois hugged her, emotions switching from surly to guilty to overwhelmed by compassion. "I'm glad you're my friend," she muttered.

"And I'm glad you're mine, too. Even if you do have terrible pickle-breath." Lana gave her an extra squeeze to let her know that was in jest.

When they stepped back, Lois grinned, a brilliant idea dawning. "Well, since you put up with my pickle-breath and me drinking up all the orange juice in the county, I guess the only suitable payback is to ask if you'd like to be the godmother."

That clearly floored her, Lana blinking in amazement. "You … you're serious? _Really_? You want _me_ to be the godmother?"

"Who else, Red?" Lois asked. It felt exactly right; a year ago she hadn't known the name of the senator from Kansas, much less who his wife was, but right now she counted Lana among her closest friends.

"I'd love that," Lana finally said, and looked away to dash a tear from her eye.

…

Months of fruitless searching lay behind General Lane's staff, and there could be months more ahead. That damned editor Perry White had completely stonewalled them. They'd checked every place he had been and everyone he'd called from his home phone number, tapping credit card receipts and phone company records with ease. His internet access was monitored, and Sam read every email himself, looking for clues. They'd even had him followed for weeks. And what had they found? Nothing.

The old bastard was _smart_, though. All the evidence indicated that he had severed contact with Lois once he sent her off. Sam ground his teeth in impotent fury. No one had stymied him like this—except Lois herself.

There were only two options left. The first was to drag White into custody. Homeland Security would do it, if told he was withholding information of national importance, and everyone had a breaking point. They'd get the information out of him eventually. But that was a can of worms Sam didn't want to open. First off, the idea of subjecting an otherwise law-abiding American citizen to imprisonment and water-boarding didn't sit well with him. Perry White was no terrorist. He'd taken Lois' side, but that didn't earn him _this_ kind of trouble.

Besides, the man was a newspaper editor. No matter what he said or signed, he _would_ publicize his experience. And when it came out that the runaway intelligence operative he'd concealed was Vice Chief of Staff General Lane's own _daughter_, well, that would look very bad. Sam might find himself facing a court-martial for misuse of power. As it was, _not_ arresting White was getting him some heat from a few highly-placed individuals, but he pretended to be convinced that the editor really didn't know his source's whereabouts. If those pressuring him had any inkling that Sam thought Perry White knew at least _who_ he'd handed Lois off to, they'd demand that his arrest, and then Sam would hang for it when the headlines came out. No, 'I was only following orders' was no excuse to the American people, or to Sam himself.

So they did it the second way, the slow way. The last purchase on White's credit cards that was definitely for Lois was some clothing. And they knew she hadn't been with him when they'd initially questioned him. So between those two dates, White _had_ to have contacted his mysterious source. If he was any less canny, he would've made a phone call from his office, home, or cell phone, but Sam's staff had already exhausted those possibilities. No one had suddenly changed their habits in ways that might suggest they had a pregnant runaway teenager living with them.

Now the search was expanding to other phone lines in the _Daily Planet_ building, of which there were a daunting number, and pay phones near Perry's house and workplace. Those records had been delivered today, and Sam spent every spare moment poring over them, trying to eliminate any obvious discrepancies.

Sooner or later, he _would_ find his daughter. And then, once he was sure she was all right, there'd be hell to pay.

…

The morning of Memorial Day dawned hot and bright, the sky casting a red glow through the window of the bathroom where Lois was rearranging the scatter of her stuff across the countertop. For months the jumble of cleanser, moisturizer, toothpaste, deodorant, hairbrush, and all the other countertop flotsam hadn't bothered her at all; she knew where everything was and how to find it. Today it annoyed her, much like the disarray of her closet had irritated her Saturday, and the random arrangement of canned goods in the pantry had bothered her yesterday.

That kind of obsession was very unlike Lois, who had always cultivated a state of barely-controlled chaos to rebel against her father's strict sense of order. She didn't realize what it was a sign of, though. Lois' attention was taken up by the sudden sharp pain in her stomach. She winced, pressing a hand to her side. Even her digestion had been affected by the pregnancy, and occasional stomach cramps were nothing new.

She padded out to the kitchen, where Lana was making breakfast. At least the morning sickness was gone; Lois had gotten very sick of dry toast for breakfast every day, when she could keep even _that_ down. The delicious smell of pancakes filled the room, and the two women said their good mornings as Lois got herself a glass of orange juice. Lana had the radio tuned to a country station—the only classic rock they got had a rather risqué morning show—and after the current song ended, the weather report came up. Lois listened with half an ear. "…And a sixty percent chance of afternoon showers from the storm system to the east," the meteorologist concluded.

"Huh. I guess Mr. Thomas' cows were right," Lois said.

"Maybe we should see about getting them on the Weather Channel," Lana joked, flipping two pancakes onto a plate for Lois.

She grinned happily; Lois wasn't normally a morning person, either, but if she wasn't sleeping, she might as well get up and have breakfast. "Maybe. Oh, and the sky's really red. That's another one of those weather proverbs or whatever. 'Red sky at morning, sailor take warning; red sky at night, sailor's delight.' Not that anyone around here sails much, I guess."

"Personally I've always thought the sky looked fairly red at sunrise and sunset," Lana replied with a shrug.

The day was completely ordinary. Most of the shops in town were closed, so Lois lounged in the backyard hammock while Lana tended to her garden. They brought the radio out, too, eventually switching over to Lois' favorite station. She made sure not to tease the redhead for humming along with a few songs.

It was a lazy, restful day, punctuated by going over to Silas' house for a cookout. Almost every house they passed on the way had an American flag out front, and Silas' wife had put out red, white, and blue cups and plates on the backyard picnic table. Everything seemed a bit too loud for Lois, voices carrying a trifle too far, the excited laughter of the kids next door just a shade too piercing. But there were hotdogs and hamburgers and huge salads and corn on the cob, and even peaches and watermelon done on the grill for dessert, which tasted a lot better than Lois initially expected. She and Lana finally rolled home in the afternoon feeling very overstuffed.

Lois soon had cause to regret overindulging. She no longer had enough room in her belly for that much food, and her grumbling stomach told her off. The pains were intermittent, but grew sharper. Lois gritted her teeth and bore it, cursing herself for being a gluttonous moron. There was no point in telling Lana, who would only fret over her.

The plan had been to watch a movie that afternoon, but Lois' pick from Netflix turned out to be a dud, so she and Lana surfed the channels for something better. While they were in the middle of debating over two films—one sci-fi and one drama—the TV blared a high-pitched tone, and a tornado watch for their county scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

Lois glanced at it without much interest. The first few times that had happened, she'd been worried, but Lana reassured her that it merely meant conditions were right for a tornado to form, not that one was necessarily on its way. The basement was already stocked in case of emergency, and Lana had shown her the fortified walls and ceiling that would protect them in case of a storm. She felt safe…

…and winced at another pang. Lana looked over with concern, and Lois waved her off. "Just gas pains. Too many hotdogs."

"They were really good, weren't they?" Lana agreed with a chuckle.

In the end they watched the sci-fi movie, which was pretty good, and Lois headed to bed for a nap afterward while Lana caught up on correspondence. The stupid gas pains woke her up within an hour, and she went out to the kitchen for some ginger ale in the hope that would soothe it.

"Hey, Lois?" Lana called from the study. "Did you take the radio in your room?"

"No. We had it outside this morning. I'll go check." Maybe a short stroll would help settle her stomach.

Sure enough, the radio was sitting underneath the hammock. Lois brought it in, stopping halfway to the door. Something seemed … odd. The wind was pushing against her back, but the clouds in the sky were flowing toward her. She couldn't help remembering one of the front porch crowd saying that rain was certain when clouds moved against the wind.

Well, rain had already been predicted for the day. Although the sky was awfully strange-looking, and there was one big cloud on the horizon that didn't seem to be going anywhere, unlike the smaller, fluffier ones racing above. Lois went inside, bringing the radio to Lana. "There's definitely a storm on the way," she said.

"We've still got the flashlights out from the last one," Lana sighed. Three weeks ago they'd lost power for almost an hour during a violent thunderstorm. "Thanks for bringing the radio in."

"You're welcome," Lois replied. With all that weather lore on her mind, the question that popped up wasn't surprising. "Are there any sayings about a green sky?"

Lana's brow furrowed. "_Green?_ Why would you ask that?"

"The sky outside looks pretty greenish." Lois shrugged. She'd never seen a sky like that before. It seemed to fit the surreal feeling of the movie they'd watched rather than this sleepy Kansas town.

"Wait. You mean the sky's green right _now_?" Lana began to look truly alarmed, and snapped the radio on even as she turned to her computer and went to her favorite weather site.

"Yeah. What's it mean? Rains of frogs?" Lois joked to dispel the rising anxiety. Her stomach didn't help by hitting her with a savage cramp that seemed to wrap right around to her back. She couldn't help a groan, both hands flying to her back as she tried to stretch it out.

"No, it … Lois? Are you all right?" Lana's expression was frankly worried.

She tried to grin and knew it wasn't working. "First it was my stomach, now it's my back. It's been going on all day. Just indigestion from eating too much."

"If it was going on before the cookout, it's not from that," Lana said seriously.

"Yeah, but I've been having these gas pains a lot…" Lois began, and suddenly was cut off by a new pain, sinking sharper and deeper into her midsection, and lasting longer than the others. She was unable to stifle a whimper.

"Good Lord and all the saints in heaven," Lana said, her eyes going wide. "Lois, that's not gas. That's _contractions_. You're going into labor. Come on, we need to get the midwife over here."

The next few minutes were a bustle as Lana led her into the bedroom and got her settled. Calling the midwife was more trouble than it should've been; the house phone was dead, probably due to a line knocked down by the incoming storm. And her cell phone was having trouble picking up a signal.

"It's gonna be a while," Lois groaned, feeling her belly turn to stone. Now the pains were unmistakable, but they were still spaced out. They both knew first-time labor tended to last for hours, so they had time to reach the midwife.

Lana finally got a call to dial, only to reach a busy signal. "This is ridiculous," she grumbled, a rare display of temper.

"Hey, it's fine," Lois said, breathing slow and deep. "I mean, we both read the book, right? And kids are born at home out here all the time. You're a country girl, too, you've seen like, cows being born and stuff." She was trying to reassure herself as much as Lana, fighting the worry wrapping itself around her heart with every contraction. A foolish wish for Kal-El to be here, somehow, someway, flitted through her mind before the next pain.

When it eased, Lana was sitting beside her, holding Lois' hand. "My parents let me breed the mare I had in high school, and I was there when she foaled. Somehow I don't think the vet's advice to me is going to be much use here. Not unless this baby is standing up within an hour."

Lois smiled weakly. "You never know. So tell me … _urgh_, dammit, that _hurts_ … tell me what a green sky means."

"Oh, it's just a superstition," Lana said, and Lois _knew_ she was being lied to. She narrowed her eyes at the redhead.

Before she could speak, they both heard the rattle of hail on the roof. _Hail?_ In _May?_ Lois frowned in disbelief. Meanwhile Lana looked up, and her expression was one Lois never expected to see: unadulterated _fear_. "Lana, tell me what the hell is going on," Lois snapped.

Taking a deep breath, Lana began, "Now remember that most of them are _mild_ and don't do more than rip off a few shingles, but…"

The loud wail of the tornado alert siren cut her off.

…

On New Krypton, Kal-El's home was a shambles. The Consulars had gone through like a whirlwind in their frustration at having missed the traitor, finding an incredible amount of contraband in their furious search. General Zod—he had stopped thinking of himself as Supreme Chancellor when it became clear that he was once again at war—stood in the center of the living space, ignoring the recorded message to the boy's parents.

Clever boy, deflecting suspicion from his parents. But then, the House of El had always been clever. Jor-El would have sense enough to denounce his son's actions as he had his brother's, especially since Kal-El had proved to be if anything more outrageous. Dru-Zod had decided to let the message stand, for now, and appear to accept it as true. Jor-El was still useful in his current position.

Ursa stalked to his side, a crystal in hand. "We found this in the human's room," she said, passing it to him. Curious, General Zod placed it into the console.

On the holographic display, a schematic popped up, and Dru-Zod grinned. He was no ship-designer, but he had consulted extensively with Jor-El on the building of the transport ships, wanting to stay informed. As a result he knew a few things about the design of interstellar craft and what weaknesses must be avoided.

"The son has made the same mistake the father narrowly avoided," he chuckled, nodding toward the delicate crystal structure. "That ship will never reach Earth."


	46. The Greatest of All Expectations

**Insert witty commentary here. After a long week and a crazy nine-hour shift tonight, I have only enough brain left to say enjoy! This one answers a few more of your burning questions!**

* * *

"What was he _thinking?!_" Jor-El bellowed, all but blind with rage. He had locked himself in his lab, not wanting Lara to witness this, and turned on the sonic generator in case anyone _else_ was listening. Never had any emotion consumed him like this—except once, when he had beheld his infant son and known he could not let the Science Council doom him along with the rest of their people. Not at any price. Back then he had acted rashly, too, and discovered just how high the price could be.

And now Kal-El had brought that death down upon himself. His ship was flawed, clearly based on one of Jor-El's own discarded ideas. The design had never been secret, and there were many ways in which Kal-El could've gotten access to it. Dru-Zod appeared to accept that Jor-El had not encouraged him in any way. That was no respite, however. It was true, he had committed no treason. He had _not_ helped his son, and now Kal-El was going to die a traitor just as Zor-El had done.

It was enough to drive any man mad. Helpless to save his son, helpless now to save his people from the tyrant he himself had helped to attain power, Jor-El could see no future that did not end in death and ignominy for the entire Kryptonian race. His rage and despair crystallized into a need to do something, _anything_, and with a frustrated snarl Jor-El swept his hand across the bench before him, sending half a dozen delicate experimental devices crashing to the floor.

The wanton destruction sobered him. Months of work, ruined in a moment of passionate temper. How could he be angry at Kal-El, when the boy's faults so clearly came from him? Only the son had chosen to sacrifice his entire life—and the lives of however many humans—in a rushed decision based on intense emotion. The father dropped to his knees amid the litter of broken crystal and warped metal, bringing his hands to his face.

Behind him the door opened, and Jor-El nearly fell trying to turn around. Lara came in, putting both hands on his shoulders. Jor-El felt shame first, that she had seen him like this, then a pitiful sort of relief at her soothing touch, and shame again that _she_ was the one to comfort _him_. "Lara, my love," he said in a choked voice.

"Our son is not going to die," she said, with such conviction that Jor-El looked up, fragile hope blossoming. She squeezed his shoulders lightly, her gaze tranquil.

…

Tornado sirens were _loud_, and damned eerie too. When the thing started going off, it reminded Lois of a sound effect from a horror movie. And a horror movie was exactly what this was starting to feel like. Despite the fact that she was in labor and her contractions were growing closer together, she and Lana wasted no time getting down to the basement. Fortunately the tornado shelter was already stocked, and had a daybed that probably used to be furniture in a guest room upstairs before it was retired down there. It would be comfortable enough, and as Lois had repeatedly been assured, it was _safe_. Well underground with a reinforced roof, not even the strongest tornado could touch her there.

She still worried, and hurried. With typical Lane timing, her water broke on the way down. For once Lana didn't give Lois a discouraging look when she swore pungently. The redhead must've known she was on the verge of panic. What else could possibly go wrong at this point? Lois had no sooner thought it than realized she really, really didn't want to know. Lana just helped her get cleaned up again, and down to the bed, where Lois lay down with a groan as another contraction came on.

The weather radio crackled softly with updates about a tornado on the ground just outside of Smallville, but Lois paid it little attention. She was too focused on the pain that sank in and wrapped around her, making her groan. Her contractions were only a few minutes apart by then. The reality was starting to hit her: this was happening, and it was happening _now_, while a massive thunderstorm dropped tornadoes across the county the same way Lois tended to casually empty the contents of her pockets across the top of her nightstand. There was no stopping it, either. Now that the birthing process had begun, she had to bear it—without medical assistance, without drugs—until her daughter was born.

At least she didn't have to do it alone. And at least she and Lana had both done a lot of reading, getting as prepared as they possibly could for this. She'd personally read every pregnancy book in the library, and the search history on Lana's computer was full of blogs by mothers and midwives. Despite her fears, Lois could spare a moment of pity for the other teen moms she'd seen on the news, some of whom hadn't even known they were pregnant.

Still … this might not be like any other birth on the planet, and that awareness lurked at the edges of Lois' mind, just waiting to pounce on her with exactly the anxiety she didn't need to be feeling.

Lana sat on the bed behind her, and started massaging Lois' shoulders. She sighed, letting herself sag a bit; the next contraction was easier to ride out. "You're doing fine," Lana told her. "Is this comfortable?"

"Yeah, kinda," Lois said wanly.

The redhead nodded. She'd kept the lights off knowing that they might go out, and the shelter was lit by one emergency electric lantern. Lois felt surprisingly safe in the close dimness. Time passed in its timeless way, narrowing to the waves of contractions, the weather updates, and Lana's soothing presence.

A particularly vicious pain made Lois' eyes water. "Not so comfortable," she muttered, and tried to turn onto her side. Lana had to help her, and she growled angrily, "So damn tired of being so _weak!_ Can't even turn over by myself." Tears threatened at those words. Her moods were fluctuating wildly, from fear to anger to impatience, but the Lane stubbornness kept rising through all of it. To hell with her father; once this child was born she'd be safe from him.

"You aren't weak," Lana insisted, rubbing her back then. "Lois, you just might be the strongest person I know. What you are right now is awkward, and that's because you're carrying around a whole other _person_. Relax and let me help you. That's what friends are for."

At last finding a semi-comfortable position, Lois dropped her head onto Lana's leg with a weary sigh. The damned siren had stopped wailing, but she could hear hail rattling the roofs and the wind under the eaves. Focus was what she needed now, to get all the obstructions out of her way so she could bring a new life into the world.

The next contraction was easier to bear, but it came with a sense of worry. Lois frowned, waiting for the next one. "I don't feel like I need to push."

Lana nodded. "You're probably not fully dilated yet. Just go easy, Lois. Your body knows what it's doing better than either of us, so just go with it. Let me know if you start feeling like you have to push hard, though."

Lois managed a dry chuckle in the moment between contractions. "Not yet. Just feel like I need to … find whoever thought humans and Kryptonians couldn't … _argh_ … couldn't interbreed, and … kick 'em in the balls." Lana chuckled dutifully.

Merely saying the name of his kind aloud made her think of Kal-El, though, and suddenly Lois wanted to cry. He should've been beside her; he would've been with her, if they'd met in any other possible way than as reluctant jailor and hostage turned spy. _Where are you?_

She didn't realize she'd whimpered that aloud until Lana stroked her hair and told her, "He'd be here if he could, Lois."

…

Kal-El's ship had three main sections. The rearward one held the propulsion system, the design of which would seem like something out of science fiction to humans. He sat in the forward command module, monitoring the systems which were nearly all automated. The only time his input would be needed would be when they landed, and knowing this was not just a large hovercraft such as he had flown most of his life, Kal-El had spent many hours with flight simulators. It was probably inadequate, but what choice did he have? He would not worry the humans by telling them of his inexperience.

Meanwhile the humans had a larger and more protected space in the middle, with bunks to which they could tether for sleep. A narrow corridor connected the midsection to his cabin, and Huang let himself drift up it, pausing at the entrance to the forward module. Like all the humans, he had worn several tracking crystals at once when they boarded the craft, hoping to fool the Consulars into thinking that all the hostages were on this one ship. "The rest are relieved to be gone," Huang reported. "Are you sure we can outrun the pursuit?"

"Yes, for three reasons. One, I designed this ship for speed over endurance, as I won't need to use it more than once. The military ships are more rugged but slower. Think of them as heavy cruisers, while this is a speedboat."

"And you a smuggler. Apt comparison," Huang chuckled.

"Two, I launched from the most uninhabited side of New Krypton, and placed our trajectory behind the larger of the two moons. With a little luck, we have a head start. Finally, I left an altered copy of the ship's plans at my home."

That piqued Huang's interest. "Altered how?"

Kal-El grinned. "A small but catastrophic flaw in the engine. Anyone with knowledge of interstellar travel will believe this ship is going to implode halfway between New Krypton and Earth."

"You think they won't bother to follow?" Huang said doubtfully.

"I am not _that_ much of an optimist. I only hope that they will be less determined." Kal-El swept a hand across the display before him, changing the view to the stern of the ship. Still, no ships appeared to have launched. Perhaps they might be even luckier than he'd dreamed. In any case, he had chosen his course and would not change now. The only way out was forward.

To Earth. Exhilaration and anxiety twined together in his heart and those words.

…

All of Lana's serenity was on the surface. Locked down inside where Lois couldn't see it, she was _terrified_. Back when she'd first married Pete and both of them hoped for children, Lana had read avidly about first-time pregnancies, wanting to be prepared. She hadn't just daydreamed about baby names and which one of them their firstborn would look more like, she'd been _researching_. But as time passed, the hoped-for event didn't happen, and Pete's political career took off so strongly that it seemed poor timing, anyway. Lana had quietly tucked those dreams onto a shelf along with her pregnancy books…

…but she'd never actually gotten rid of them, and she'd never forgotten what she'd learned. Over the last few months with Lois, knowing that _this_ birth might be a little different, Lana had read everything she could get her hands on, and all but interrogated the local midwife. All of the lore, too, the old wives' tales that were so often true. Despite all that preparation, she had _never_ expected to act as the sole midwife during this birth, not even able to call emergency services and be talked through it. Somewhere in the back of her head a little voice kept whispering, 'You're completely unqualified for this.'

Lana squashed it as best she could. If Lois caught wind of her fear, then she'd become terrified too, and Lois had enough to deal with. The pain was clearly agonizing, and Lois seemed almost dazed by it between contractions, just trying to get her breath back before the next one. Over the last few minutes the younger woman had become almost hysterical, crying on Lana's shoulder that she couldn't take this, couldn't do it, would somebody _please_ take it back!

Thankfully, from all her reading Lana recognized that as a symptom of transitional labor—just as she now realized Lois' obsessive cleaning and organizing the past couple days was a sign that labor would commence soon. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and at the time she'd just seen a restless teenager frustrated by her long confinement. "You're almost there, Lois, almost there," Lana soothed.

She saw the moment when it changed. Right in the midst of the worst pain, when Lois was gripping her hand so hard that Lana's fingers felt crushed, the girl's eyes suddenly opened wide for a startled second. She took a deep breath and bore down, muscles locking, every ounce of strength and willpower focused on pushing.

Lana's last hope—that the tornado warning might expire before the end of early labor—evaporated. That urgent need to push meant one thing: the baby was coming. _Now_.

…

"How can you know that?" Jor-El asked hoarsely, wanting to believe and yet afraid to. He could not bear to let himself hope and then be proven wrong. His sanity would not stand it.

Lara smiled and stroked his white hair back off his forehead. "I am his _mother._ When you feared that he would die on Krypton-that-was with all the rest of us, I never did. I knew then that his destiny was not on that world. And I know now that he did not build a ship that will destroy itself before it reaches its goal."

Jor-El blinked. Was it possible? Her certainty was absolutely solid, and very convincing, but he could not accept such a proclamation on mere faith. The plans left behind clearly showed…

…his blue eyes widened. "Great Rao," Jor-El whispered, seeing his son's ruse. Brilliant boy, as much a genius as his father!

And, he had to admit reluctantly even in the privacy of his own mind, Kal-El had likely acquired some of Jhan-Or's wiliness. Meanwhile Lara was looking at him curiously. "He fooled them, my love," Jor-El said, rising to his feet even as excitement rose within him. "No one has seen the ship itself! They only _think_ they have found his design. Kal-El would have destroyed all such records once the construction had commenced. If it was discovered before he needed to use it and he was found in possession of the design, he would surely be convicted of treason." He laughed aloud at the thought, embracing her.

"A mother's intuition and a father's logic lead to the same conclusion," Lara said proudly, kissing his cheek. "Remember, we must show grief in public, Jor-El."

"Yes, yes," he muttered, turning away with mounting urgency. Creativity had begun to course through Jor-El's brain again, a most welcome rush through channels long stagnated by pervasive dread and seeming helplessness. Now, of all the finished and half-finished and barely-begun projects in his lab, which could best be adapted for his new purpose?

"What are you thinking, my husband?" Lara asked.

He moved quickly about the workspace, setting a hand on a tool here, a gear there, touching each one lightly to re-familiarize himself with the items. He was looking for one device in particular, half-forgotten and stored away somewhere. "The pursuit will be slow; from the last I heard it has not yet been mounted. Dru-Zod will send his men out only to confirm the destruction of the ship, and none will wish to approach too closely. Kal-El gambles that when they pierce his deception, he will have enough of a lead to outpace them. I would better his odds."

"How so?" Lara asked.

"Something only I can do," he responded cryptically. Lara waited patiently, knowing her own husband well enough by now not to expect an immediate answer when he was so preoccupied.

There, in a storage area was the machine he wanted, and Jor-El hastily dragged it out and set it atop the closest workbench. Ingenious but impractical, this tiny robot had been one of the many projects Zor-El scoffed at as the fanciful work of a dreamer.

That memory pained him, but Jor-El stroked its smooth metal surface anyway. Made of many interlocking sections, the robot somewhat resembled an Earth centipede, if every third pair of limbs had been used as tools instead of for locomotion. It was tiny and fragile, but very swift and required very little clearance to infiltrate itself into complex structures.

Such as a ship's propulsion systems. Jor-El smiled, cold and bright with determined purpose, unaware that the expression erased a decade from his age, or that Lara had first fallen in love with him for it. "My brother ruined the construction of more warships for Dru-Zod. With this, I can cripple the fleet we have before he can send it after my son."

…

Approaching Earth's orbit, Kal-El began looking for a place to land. His needs were simple: a large, open, relatively flat space that was uninhabited. He had used nearly all of his ship's energy in acceleration, reserving enough to slow down, but there would be no graceful hovering touchdown as there was for the transport ships, which flew far more slowly and conserved power. For his passengers, the landing would be more of a controlled crash.

"Huang," he called, and the human propelled himself up to the command module. All of the humans had been watching the displays in their section, and Kal-El had heard laughter as well as tears at the sight of the blue and green orb growing larger. For himself, it was a breathtaking sight, not a homecoming but the first step of a journey toward discovery.

"Yes, Kal-El?" Huang asked.

He nodded to the landmass on the screen. "That is your nation, is it not? China. Do you have any large rural areas there, where I can land with minimal property damage and risk?"

Huang chuckled. "Yes, we do." He reached past Kal-El to touch the display, zooming in on an area. "All of this is agricultural. Is there any particular reason you chose my country, Kal-El?"

"Not especially. This will be convenient for you, and as one of the leaders of the Resistance I hope you can see to the other humans. It also happens to line up correctly with our angle of approach."

The human nodded. "In that case, let me preemptively welcome you to China."

Kal-El smiled. "I may not be joining you. You see, the passageway between will seal off when we enter the atmosphere, and this command module is designed to separate just before landing. It has its own in-atmosphere propulsion system, much like the hovercraft we use on New Krypton. I would like to fly a survey of Earth. I want to see as much of your planet as I can."

Huang raised an eyebrow. "We did get a message to the Resistance on Earth that we're coming, but no one will tell us where she is, Kal-El. I don't think they know—and if they don't, the American military being what it is, they won't admit it."

His heart dropped a little. Of course he knew there was no possible way he could simply fly around the planet until he spotted Lois. But some little spark of hope had remained. "I understand that, Huang. I would still like to explore, while I may."

The other man hesitated for a moment, then patted his shoulder twice, lightly. "Good fortune to you, my friend. Wherever you may go, I hope we will meet again."

…

On New Krypton, a Consular cringed as he delivered the news to his General. "The entire fleet, you say," Dru-Zod said, and his voice was flat.

"Yes, sir. After the first two ships stalled and had to turn back under minimal power, we undertook a check of the rest before launching any others. All of our ships are compromised." The young woman couldn't help wincing; the news had been met with outrage by every Consular who heard it, and she expected even more wrath from her leader.

Instead he was silent, tipping his head back and looking at the ceiling, his fingers laced together. "Hmm. It appears the traitor Kal and these rebels have won this round."

The General, admitting defeat? He who had personally broken sieges simply by showing his face, the man who turned up on the battlefield just when morale was lowest and who carried his soldiers to victory against impossible odds? These truly were harrowing times, if he was taking this news so tamely!

Perhaps something in her expression conveyed that, for he glanced at her and smiled knowingly. "But they have not yet won the war. You may go, Consular. I shall convene a general meeting tomorrow evening."

…

Lois had never felt anything quite like this. The need to push was so strong, so overwhelming, so utterly irresistible. While she was in its grip the pain was unimportant, almost unnoticed. She had found the least uncomfortable position was sitting up, holding on to the frame of the daybed with one hand and Lana's arm with the other. It wasn't at all like the movies; there was no 'one, two, three, push!' going on. When the contractions hit, she pushed as long and as hard as she could, stopped for air, and then pushed again. Sometimes it took three or four of those before the urge faded again.

Between pushes she felt almost normal. Well, as normal as a seventeen-year-old first-time mother giving birth in the middle of a freaking tornado warning could feel. Nothing else seemed important, not even the freight train rolling by somewhere close. "I thought they'd reroute trains or something when there's tornadoes," she said. It was surreal, to talk easily like this one moment, and know that in another minute or so she was going to be growling and groaning with effort.

"There aren't any train tracks close enough to hear," Lana said, raising an auburn brow. "That's a tornado you're hearing—_don't worry_, we're safe in here. Lois, if I lose half my roof while you're having this baby, we're naming her Stormy."

"No way," Lois scoffed. Strangely enough the storm overhead felt unimportant to her now, and her earlier panic was no more than a faint flicker of unease. Her focus was on her baby, for whom she'd already thought of a name. Something that recalled her father's name, but would pass among humans….

The need to push hit again, and Lois felt something different, a new kind of stretch and pressure. She had never bothered to put underwear back on after her water broke and ruined them, and the sundress she happened to wear that day was long enough for Smallville modesty and short enough for delivery convenience. Lois reached down, and to her amazement she felt her baby's skull and a shock of impossibly fine hair. Lois gasped audibly.

"She's crowning," Lana said. The redhead looked up at her with pure joy, none of the jealousy she'd claimed to feel earlier. "You're doing great, Lois, we're almost there. Just keep going."

Lois managed an exhausted laugh. What else was she going to do?

…

The heat of reentry began to melt the crystal tips of the craft, but that was expected. Kal-El had not even told Huang that _this_ was the part that made him most nervous. He had never actually landed a craft this size, but then, they were already critically low on power and close enough to be caught by Earth's gravity. He had no choice but to land the craft now. What else was he going to do?

Friction against the air slowed them, and they dropped through the sky in a graceful spiral. For a moment the display was coated in flames, but it cleared again in time for Kal-El to see a dazzling blue ocean. In the passenger compartment, he could hear cries of amazement and relief despite the sealed-off passageway. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome home!" he called.

Lower and slower but still so fast, and every second counted. Kal-El had to plan this just right, to slow down enough to release the passenger capsule while maintaining enough momentum to keep his module airborne. He used the remaining power judiciously, lining them up on a long series of fields. Closer and closer, the ground flashing by, now able to make out features of terrain. Roads, a few isolated human houses, two people standing on the edge of a field and staring, pointing at the sky.

Kal-El did not think of himself as a hero or an explorer in that moment. He had a job to do, and he was completely focused on it, everything else excluded. The timing had to be exact…

…he triggered the detachment, and the passenger compartment fell away, plowing into a newly-turned field. He had pulled up a rear-view display, and saw it slowing to a safe halt even as his own module picked up speed without the extra weight. "I did it!" Kal-El laughed, hardly able to believe it. The last humans were all home, General Zod no longer had the governments of Earth in a stranglehold.

He could only rejoice for a moment, as a shudder ran through his craft. Frowning, he checked diagnostics, trying to find the problem even as his flight grew more unstable.

…

Head thrown back, muscles locked, Lois gave a long, drawn-out scream of effort, and suddenly the sensation changed. Instead of the unbearable pressure and the need to push, there was a sliding and a lightness, and Lana laughed in wonder. "That's it, here she is. You did it, Lois!" She had caught the baby in a warm towel and was already cleaning her off. The newborn made a soft cry, and then a louder one as the redhead wiped away amniotic fluid and blood.

Lois panted, her hair sweaty and in her face. She flung it aside with a toss of her head, and tugged the front of her dress open. "Here, give me my daughter," she demanded, knowing the baby needed skin-to-skin contact. And milk. Her breasts were heavy with the need to nurse her child.

Lana paused, looking down at the infant still half-hidden in the towel, and then the redhead smiled. "I can't do that, Lois," she said softly.

"Why not?!" Lois snapped, pushing herself up.

"But I can hand you your _son_," Lana continued, and passed the baby over.

Lois was so stunned that she didn't even notice the rumble of thunder outside. The baby was red and wrinkled like all newborns, nothing to distinguish him from a fully human infant. The top of his head was covered in fine black hair, and when he opened his eyes they were a brilliant blue. "_Ohhh_," Lois whispered, caught between confusion—she'd been so sure of a daughter!—and awe. "Hi, little guy."

"He's beautiful," Lana said, and there were tears in her eyes as she kissed Lois' sweat-damp forehead.

…

This was not good, not good at all, he should've just landed with the humans. But no, the son of Jor-El could not be less than an explorer, Kal-El had had to _see_ the planet that had birthed his beloved firsthand and right away. Now he was paying the price.

His navigational systems were damaged, and at the moment he did not even know where he was on the planet's surface. Above water, and Kal-El did not wish to crash there, unknown distances from land. He coaxed the craft into remaining airborne, alternately pleading with and cursing it.

A moment later he was over land, no details he could make out at this speed. Mountains loomed, and Kal-El strove for height, but the controls were sluggish and he lost part of a crystal spire. Panic began to overtake him as he realized just how dangerous his position was. _Is this how it ends? Overzealousness and miscalculation? _

Strength of will rose up to banish fear._ No, it __**cannot**__ end like this, not until I find Lois again!_ Putting all his strength to use, Kal-El forced the steering to respond, leveling out the craft's flight. There, he had steadier flight, though he was still dangerously low. The terrain ahead was broad fields, level and smooth, and he committed to the landing.

Only then did Kal-El check the full-distance viewer. Up ahead, he saw what looked like a black wall, looming impossibly high. Startled, he reacted unthinkingly, trying to cue the craft for height when he was already low enough to clip trees.

The descent could not be called off now, and the only response to his action was to make the ship yaw. One of its crystal points struck something and the whole structure began to tumble helplessly. Kal-El could hear things breaking, insulated though he was at the heart of the command module, and he felt the moment of impact, a brutal jolt that slammed his head against the crystal ceiling above.

After that, he knew nothing.


	47. In the Wake of Chaos

**On the two-week countdown until vacation [actually we're at one week and four days! *happy dance*]and some major planning. I was going to wait until next week to tell you guys this, but there's going to be a hiatus from June 9-23 for vacation. We need to actually spend some time relaxing [waaaay too much drama in our lives lately] and plotting the last huge story-arc for _ATU_, as well as prepare for some huge changes coming up in _LaOH_, which will start paving the way for _Blood Will Tell_. There's also a side-series coming up for a huge revelation in someone's life that heavily influences the events of _BWT_. And we want to make sure it all sounds perfect. You guys deserve no less. More research to be done, more history to delve into, more overhauls on canon to plot. ;)**

**We'll see you next week with _LaOH_. Enjoy!**

* * *

He woke to sunlight, bright and golden, bathing his face. The man sat up slowly, wincing as unfamiliar pains made themselves known. His back, his shoulders, his legs, and an ache at the back of his head. That one he touched, gingerly, yanking his hand back with a hiss and a grimace. A large throbbing knot was there, exquisitely tender, and his black hair was wet. When he looked at his fingers, they were red.

_Blood. That's blood. I hit my head when…._

The thought trailed off and went away. He looked around, seeing nothing familiar, nothing that jogged his memory. He was lying in a big field full of tall green grass; some of it was pushed down around him. Had he fallen? Been shoved? He couldn't remember. Lucky the grass had cushioned him.

He got up and started walking, with no direction in mind. The sun felt good on his face so he walked toward it. After a while he left the grass field and crossed a dirt track. For some reason the sight of the tan soil clinging to his boots made him laugh.

The next field had smaller plants in it, little green leaves like spears coming up out of the ground. He bent down and peered at them, fascinated. This plant, he knew its name, it would come to him … well, whenever. It was a kind of food, though. Not now, the young shoots were no good to eat, but later. Later there would be pale yellow things, a taste he'd tried and liked.

Imagine growing food right in the dirt like this! It was amazing. How gloriously simple, how wonderfully strange. He laughed again and walked on, aimless, beginning to feel thirsty. He had nothing with him except the clothes he wore.

Another field of short plants, broad-leaved, all in neat curving rows that followed the contours of the land. He walked carefully between the rows, wondering where the people were. Did people care for these crops? Or was it an automated task, something for robots?

And why did thinking of robots make him laugh again?

He didn't know how long he'd been wandering, through fields of different crops, some young and recently-planted, some taller and stronger. Eventually he came out of one of them onto a dark, hard surface. Paved, recently wet, and now baking in the sun. He didn't like it much, and crossed to the other side. Over there, the crop was near to harvest, tawny spires with only a little green left. At the tops there were little golden tails of interlocking seeds, just beginning to nod in the breeze. He stroked his hand over them wonderingly. _Wheat_. Yes, that was the name, and he smiled gladly.

But the wheat grew too closely together for him to cross this field, so he turned right and walked alongside the road. The ground was soft, though he soon came to a ditch that forced him onto the road itself. He decided to follow the dashed line painted on it, as it gave him a sense of direction, and resumed his journey.

Tired, sore, thirsty, and disoriented, the stranger walked down the center of the country road, not knowing where—or _who_—he was.

…

"Thank you for understanding, Jor-El," General Zod said.

"It must be done, that is clear," Jor-El replied. He sounded apathetic, filled with an exhaustion that the Consulars—and Dru-Zod himself, if Rao was kind—would believe was grief. His weariness was actually the product of hours of physical and mental activity, to the point of strain, and he would be glad to sleep at last. First the emotional upheaval, then the effort to sabotage the fleet, had simply worn him out.

"I dislike having my hand forced," the general remarked. "Were it up to me, old friend, you would not be under surveillance. But the Council is close to panic." For a wonder, he looked genuinely sympathetic, though Jor-El still doubted.

The Science Council was on the verge of panic, that much was true. And suspicion descended on the House of El. Unsurprising, yet it did not disturb Jor-El. His most urgent work was done. Let the Consulars spend their time watching him. He would have to rely on Jhan-Or and the others in the Rebellion for the next move.

All he said aloud was, "All those years when the Council refused to panic, and now they finally do so. It has an edge of humor, my friend. In any case I … despite what he has done, Kal-El is still my son. I do not expect to go abroad anytime soon. I must…." He let himself trail off, covering his face with one hand.

Dru-Zod nodded. "It is not your fault, Jor-El. The Consulars on guard will not disturb you unduly. They are only posted outside. Further, if anyone should take it into their heads to do something rash, my Consulars will serve as protection."

_And have placed listening devices in here while conducting a limited search. I expected that. It means nothing, now._ "Thank you, Dru-Zod," he said, and the general left.

Jor-El did not bother to check on the Consulars posted outside his home. Instead he went into his bedroom, feeling as though he could sleep for days.

Lara was there, curled up in his bed, already asleep. She had played the part of the bereaved mother well, somehow even summoning tears. One look at her glassy-eyed, bereft expression, and General Zod had told her gently that she need not be present. Jor-El had thought she'd gone to her bedroom, but here she was.

Kryptonian couples did not normally share sleeping arrangements. The tight quarters on the transport ships had been a different matter, more a necessity, but even then they had kept separate beds.

Jor-El placed a hand on her shoulder, and Lara did not react, too deeply asleep. He sighed, and changing into sleepwear, joined her there. He was already tainted by treason in his family; why bother to worry about adding deviancy to his stained reputation? Lara's quiet breathing lulled him to sleep.

…

Jonathan and Martha Kent had ridden out the tornado warning in their storm cellar, listening to the weather radio by the light of an electric lantern. The most dangerous conditions had lasted so long, they ended up eating peanut butter crackers and washing them down with bottled water, feeling like kids on a backyard camping trip. It was odd how circumstances could make the familiar farm seem strange.

Neither of them were particularly afraid. They had lived through many storm seasons, and knew that Mother Nature was a force to be respected, but they had no more fear of a tornado than cattlemen have of a full-grown bull. The key was acknowledging the potential for destruction, and mitigating it as much as possible.

Although, when they heard the unearthly roar of the tornado, both of them fell silent. Martha reached for Jonathan's hand, and they sat in silence, even turning down the weather radio. Somewhere above the twister howled, and the sturdy shelter seemed much less comforting. "It's not that close," Jonathan finally whispered.

"Shh, don't tempt fate," Martha murmured back.

The sound died away, and soon after the weather radio broadcast an all-clear. "For now," Jonathan muttered. "That line of storms is gonna be rolling through all week. Probably have tornado watches through Thursday."

"Probably," Martha agreed, picking up the empty bottles and wrappers.

He went up the steps first, unlatching the door and peering out cautiously. "God Almighty," Jonathan whispered.

"What is it?" Martha asked, worried.

Shaking his head, he pushed the door open and climbed out, turning to give her a hand. "Must've come closer than I thought. I think that's the Wilsons' weathervane in our dooryard."

She climbed out carefully, looking around. Broken branches and a few shingles littered the yard, but at first glance there was no real damage. "It does look like theirs. We'll get it back to them later."

The pair cautiously explored the property. Apparently the tornado hadn't come too close; it was just the surrounding winds that had blown debris toward the house. The Kent farm was much, much larger than just what they could see in a cursory glance, though, and all of it would have to be looked over. The hay would bounce back, but the young corn might've been damaged, and luckily they hadn't planted the sorghum yet. The biggest worry was the wheat and rye crop, both nearing harvest. Heavy rain and hail could've flattened them, or the tornado might've just ripped them right out of the ground.

After picking up around the house, the Kents checked the weather report again. All clear for a few hours. Martha tried calling a few friends in town, but the land lines were down and the cell networks were busy. It didn't trouble her much; the younger people got excited by a storm like this, and they were all busily calling and texting and twittering, or whatever you called it. By the time she came back outside, Jonathan had loaded the weathervane into the bed of the pickup and was putting a cooler in between the front seats. Water, pop, and some snacks—this could be a long trip, and they might have to stop and help someone else, too.

As they drove, the damage to their land turned out to be blessedly minor. Some debris, of course, including someone's washing strung across the length of the cornfield. "Maybe we ought to see if we can figure out who that belongs to," Martha said, seeing plaid shirts clinging to the fence line.

"I think it can wait. I'm sure whoever had wash hanging out to dry will recognize _those_ faster'n we will," Jonathan chuckled, and nodded to a pair of bright red and white polka-dotted boxer shorts hanging from the arm of a scarecrow further up the field. They both laughed.

The laughter stopped further on, at the border of their property. Here was the path of the tornado itself, the ground scoured down to bare earth. Crops, fence, even telephone poles just _gone_. Jonathan could not help thinking that it looked as if the Creator had spotted a flaw in His work and reached down with His thumb like any other artist to rub it away. A blasphemous thought, perhaps. Tornadoes weren't the wrath of God; they were only another awesome force of His creation, part of the workings of the world like rainbows and waterfalls.

Martha had gone silent too, their already-cautious speed dropping as they observed the damage. The road was covered in debris, mostly torn-up crops and a few shattered fence pickets. "Look at that," Martha whispered.

Jonathan looked. Someone had left their tractor in the field, and the tornado had picked it up only to dropped it again like a child bored of a toy. The tractor had landed on its nose, rear wheels skyward. _Glad I wasn't out driving in this,_ Jonathan thought.

He looked a little too long, because the next thing he knew, Martha was grabbing his arm. "_Watch out!_"

His eyes snapped back to the road just in time to see a body lying on the center line, and Jonathan swerved much harder than necessary, two wheels going off the pavement and into the soft dirt. The back tire ran over a twisted chunk of metal—from the tractor, or from God alone knew where else—and blew out.

They bumped to a halt, and Jonathan swore under his breath, looking in the mirror with a chill running down his spine. Which of their neighbors was lying dead in the road? Mercy, he could've run over the man!

And then the body lifted its head to look at them, and Martha gasped. "Thank God, he's alive!"

…

By the time they were able to get back upstairs, Lois was more than ready for a long bath. She'd gotten mostly cleaned up from the birth while they were in the shelter, and luckily she hadn't had too much bleeding. But she _ached_, and even more, she was completely exhausted. Having babies was hard work.

Lana settled her on the couch for the moment, with her newborn son tucked inside her dress, against her skin. The redhead was off checking the house for damage while Lois dozed, alert to the baby's needs. For now, though, he was sleeping; perhaps being born was hard work, too. Especially for someone so tiny. She still couldn't get over how little he was; even Luce hadn't been this small. That made her think of home and Momma and how she didn't even know where either of them were.

Before she could let herself get maudlin, Lois caught it and redirected her attention to the situation at hand. There would be time to find them later, but they had to be safe. There was this son of hers to get to know. "That's a better thing to worry about. What am I gonna name you, huh, little boy?" Lois murmured, gazing fondly at him. One gentle finger ran from the crown of his head to the softness of his warm, rosy cheek. "So far I've got nothing and I get this feeling like Bridgette just isn't an option anymore, don't you think?" That shock of dark hair was so like his father's, but the pang in her heart was overwhelmed by adoration. Those blue, blue eyes just made it worse. Imagine, a son of the House of El, here in Smallville, Kansas.

"Well, everything looks all right," Lana said, walking back into the room. "My garden might be wrecked, but a lot of it will come back, given the chance. How're you and the little one?"

"Getting to know each other, but he's not managing to keep up his end of the conversation," Lois snarked tiredly, but turned to give her a grin over the back of the couch before looking down at the sleeping bundle. "Also dying for that bath. I wanna feel a little more human. God, I can't believe that I felt like I was carrying around a hyper-active baby rhino and he's almost microscopic. It's mind-boggling."

"He's not _that_ tiny. And better a bit small than a bit large. One of my cousins had a ten-pound baby for her first child." Lois looked up at her in horror, and Lana laughed. "His father was six-foot-five. We all blamed him. Luckily the Lang women are tall, for the most part."

"You know, Kal-El's not too far off that," Lois remarked, wondering if her little son would reach his father's height, or take after her and her mother's more moderate stature.

"Hmm. Well, he's perfect, just the size he is," Lana declared. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Thinking about it," Lois admitted. "I want something that starts with a K, like his father. But he doesn't look like a Kevin or a Keith or a Kyle."

Lana nodded thoughtfully. "You could always go for C, for the same sound."

Lois' eyes lit up. "_Ahh._ My grandfather—Dad's dad—was Connor. I like it. How about that, little one? Are you Connor Lane?" Blue eyes blinked sleepily at her, which Lois took for a yes.

"Connor's a good Irish name. His mostly-Irish godmother approves."

Lois smiled up at her. "So is Lane. Kids at school used to pick on me for being named _Road_. I got it out of my grandfather that the name was originally O'Luain. It means 'descendant of the warrior'. Pretty good, since my first name is German and that means 'famous in battle'. Fierce was kinda my destiny."

"No wonder you're such a fighter," Lana chuckled.

Connor burbled happily, and Lois kissed his forehead. Every new sound or movement stunned her all over again, equal parts surprise and joy. This was going to take a _lot_ of getting used to.

…

"_Where is he?_" General Lane bellowed. Every soldier in the room stood firm, but there were looks traded when they thought he wasn't paying attention. At first the news had been good—all the hostages were back on Earth, landing in _China_ of all places but the Chinese government was playing nice. And then someone had told Mad Dog Lane the name of the Kryptonian pilot.

"No one knows, sir," his aide answered. "According to the hostages, he intended to fly a survey of the planet. Eyewitness accounts corroborate part of the craft continued flying."

"So where'd he go? We've got to have some kind of record!"

"The ship's flight was tracked across the Atlantic Ocean. By the time he reached American soil, he was too low for reliable radar. Satellite images appear to show a wreck, possibly due to a major storm, somewhere in Eastern Kansas. We're still scanning for any sign of the ship."

General Lane froze. _Kansas_ rang a bell for some reason, but he couldn't immediately identify why. The problem in front of him was more important, and he shook himself to deal with. "The _second_ we find that ship, I want boots on the ground. That alien is America's Most Wanted right now, do you understand?"

"Sir," one of the lieutenants began, and Sam cut him off.

"I'm not going to have a goddamned Kryptonian wandering around knocking on people's doors! This idiot is the scion of an important family over there. I'm not about to let him get himself _shot_ on my watch." That mollified the doubters, and he dismissed his personnel.

Only then did Sam drop into his chair, his hands locked tight around each other, tension written into every line of his body. _Kal-El_. The feckless rebel who'd gotten his daughter pregnant. And who, if Lois' description of him as an idealistic dreamer was accurate, was probably looking for her right now.

_I can't let you get yourself shot, boy, but I'll make damn sure you know how I feel about you taking advantage of my daughter,_ General Lane thought.

…

"Son? Son, are you all right?"

The words came to him dimly, and he opened gritty eyes to see concerned faces looking down at him. The woman was patting his cheek gently, while the man took hold of his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position. He thought, _Not supposed to touch me,_ but it didn't bother him, and he needed the help.

His dry throat wouldn't work, and then he managed to croak, "Thirsty." The woman hurried away to a … truck, that was the word for it, and came back with something in a bottle. _Water_. He seized the bottle but could only stare at it, not seeing a way to get at the fluid immediately, and the woman twisted the cap off for him. Then he drank until a cold spike planted itself in his forehead.

"Easy there, son," the man said, patting his shoulder. "What's your name?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. What _was_ his name? The answer wouldn't surface. Right then only one name leaped into his mind, and he said it even though he knew it wasn't his own, hoping the sound would jog his memory somehow. "Lois."

"Hmm. You don't look much like a Lois to me," the woman said, smiling.

"Lois is not my name," he said. "I was walking … looking for her, I think."

"I don't know anyone named Lois in town. Does she live around here?"

He shook his head, winced, and his hand flew to the back of his skull, but he did not touch the knot there. "Hmm, blood in your hair. You probably took a nasty knock here, son," the man said, thankfully not touching it. "How'd that happen?"

"I … do not remember." He drank more water, imagining he could feel it trickling into all the parched places inside him. He had been walking for a long time, that much he remembered, before he finally fell over.

The man and the woman exchanged a look. "Got any ID on you? In a wallet, maybe?" the man asked.

Neither _ID_ nor _wallet_ rang any bells, and he looked up at them bemusedly until the woman looked into his pants pockets, then the pocket of his shirt. "Nothing, Jonathan. Not even a slip of paper or a nickel. And I'd swear these clothes were brand-new this morning; the shirt collar's still got the cardboard in it."

"He's banged up, doesn't know who he is, and hasn't got any ID. Guess we'd better call the sheriff," the man said. _Jonathan_, he was called Jonathan, what a strange name.

"Nonsense," the woman replied. "The sheriff'll be too busy after the storm—and on a holiday, too—to deal with one confused boy. And I'm not leaving him out here in the road for hours. We'll bring him home, let him rest, give him a meal, and maybe his memory will come back. If not we can call the sheriff tomorrow."

"Now Martha, he's more man than boy," Jonathan said. "And we have no idea who he is or where he came from. Sure doesn't talk like a local. Best to just call the sheriff, let him handle it."

He was following the exchange, looking from one to the other, noting their speech patterns. One word stood out. "Sheriff?" he asked, turning to the woman.

"The police, honey," she said, touching his shoulder. "Jonathan thinks the police might be able to find out where you came from."

"_No_," he said, and tried to get up, staggering and falling back onto his rump. "No police."

The man looked at the woman. "See? Now why's he so concerned about the police? Martha, this isn't our problem."

"Nonsense, we're the ones who found him. Besides, he's _hurt_, Jonathan. Confused and upset." She turned to him solicitously. "It's all right, son. We haven't been able to get through on the phone anyway."

That made little sense to him, but her soothing tone helped. Martha, that was her name, and he looked at her steadily as he tried to stamp it into his untrustworthy memory. All during the hours he'd been walking, he hadn't really noticed how much he'd forgotten. Only now, trying to talk to people, did he begin to worry about it.

The man, Jonathan, sighed. "I'm changing that tire. Then we'll see." He moved over to the vehicle and began taking things out of the compartment in the back.

Meanwhile Martha knelt next to him, stroking his black hair out of his face. "You really don't remember how you got here, do you, son?"

"No. Not at all." Everything before waking up in the hayfield was a mystery.

"Do you remember where you're from?" she asked gently.

Again, he drew a blank, and looked up at the blue sky above as if the answer were there. Martha patted his shoulder again. "That's all right, dear. Come on over to the truck. Are you hungry? We brought sandwiches."

He followed her, interested in what Jonathan was doing. He had some sort of device under the truck, turning a crank that made one corner of the vehicle rise up. A glance at the round things on each corner—_wheels_—showed that one of them was misshapen. On the ground lay another wheel. Ah, so he had to exchange the flattened one for the undamaged one. That made sense to him, and he watched the process interestedly as Martha reached inside the truck. "Ham or turkey?" she asked.

Not wanting to say _I don't know_ yet again, he replied, "Either one. Please. And thank you."

Jonathan made a noise that sounded like _hmph_. He was struggling to remove the bad wheel—there were four little pieces that screwed onto posts and held it together. He had seen the man loosen these before lifting the vehicle, and now one of them appeared stuck. Martha was moving toward him with the sandwich, and Jonathan muttered a word that he didn't quite understand, but which made her frown.

"Stupid blasted lug nut!" Jonathan snapped, and wrenched at the tool he was using. It was a great effort, and the entire truck rocked with the force of it. In fact there were a metallic creaking noise….

"_Jonathan!_" Martha shouted, fear blazing in her voice.

He saw it start to happen. The device holding the truck wavered and fell. The heavy vehicle began to fall, too. And Jonathan was kneeling on the ground, far too close to it. The damaged wheel might hit his legs; the metal side of the truck might hit his face. That could not be allowed to happen.

The next few seconds were a blur that left him even more confused than before. But somehow, he was holding Jonathan's shirt in one hand, having pulled the man clear of the falling truck.

And in the other hand, he'd caught the vehicle itself, which felt as though it weighed no more than a feather.

Both people stared at him, Jonathan finding his feet again. He released the man, and set the truck down gently. How was it so light?

It was Martha who broke the silence. "Well. I guess you really _aren't_ from around here at all, are you?"


	48. Of Defiance and Gravity

**Sneaking back in here to do a post-script because questions. Not that you'll necessarily see the answers unless you re-read, but yeah. **

**First, no plans for _Man of Steel_ fic. FAAAAR too many people are going to be just jumping on that fandom and Anissa and I prefer to stick to Reeveverse because there aren't too many other people that write it and there are obvious fans out there. Will we maybe do little tributes to their fandom? Of course. We do a lot of that. But fic written for the characterizations in _MoS_? No. A re-do like _LS_ was for _SR_? No. I've just never been as inspired as it came up. So sadly, _Across the Universe_ will likely be the closest we come to it and that was unintentional. There's a future!fic coming up that is a little bit like it, but it'll be at least a year or two before we even get there.**

** Sorry to those that were hoping for another answer. *shuffles feets* **

**Second, for those that are new, don't worry if you see us take a break on a fic in the index that's not marked 'Completed'. There's usually fic on one or the other fic every week, but we do take breaks sometimes and I'll usually warn you in the profile if there's gonna be a break. So no worries on abandoned fic. We've only ever had two and it's because the muse just said 'nope'. Still hoping to close out one of those two one day. *pouts***

**Okay, that's was a lot longer than expected. I'll hush now. On with the show. ;)**

* * *

Martha and Jonathan took him home, in the end, and he rode quietly in the bed of the pickup. Though he could hear both of their voices perfectly despite the closed window between them, neither of them seemed inclined to discuss the incident. Well, not much beyond Martha's remark that they were lucky to have found him, and Jonathan's reply that the tire wouldn't have been blown out if he hadn't needed to swerve in the first place. Clearly he hadn't won the man's trust.

That hurt, and he didn't quite understand why. _He_ didn't know who he was, so why should he expect these people to just assume he was a friend? The only solution was to do everything he could to prove his good intentions.

Once they arrived at the farmhouse, he asked if there was anything he could do to help. Martha wanted him to just lie down and rest, but he insisted gently. They were helping him, he should do what he could for them. It was only fair. And that resulted in him going outside with Jonathan to pick up debris and re-set part of a fence that had fallen. Undemanding work, really, but he went to it with a will, eager to prove himself to the older man.

His prodigious strength was useful, but he was careful not to use too much of it. He didn't want to seem like a showoff, or break anything, for that matter. Still, Jonathan let him carry the heavier loads, and it was a start, at least. He could almost _see_ the older man thawing toward him, and it was gratifying.

The sun beat down on them both, and Jonathan had to mop his face with a towel several times. He, on the other hand, wasn't uncomfortable. The sun's warmth was pleasant, and he kept tilting his face up to it with his eyes half-closed against the glare.

After a couple of hours they both went inside for tall glasses of iced tea, wonderfully refreshing. He drank the beverage down gladly, and Martha refilled his glass before he could even ask her. "I don't mean to badger you, but if you remember anything, anything at all, it could be a big help."

"I'm trying," he said earnestly. "I want to know, too. But the first thing I remember is waking up in a hayfield and walking, this morning." He stooped his shoulders a bit, feeling embarrassed by that. There _were_ memories somewhere, as proven by the words that would suddenly come to him where he had been blankly confused a moment before.

"That's all right," Martha said, and patted his hand. He smiled at her, grateful. Her kind face never failed to make him smile even when he wasn't entirely sure why. The smile somehow turned into a yawn, which he covered up, but Martha asked after it solicitously anyway. "Are you tired?"

"I don't…" he trailed off, looking miserable. It wasn't _weariness_ that he felt, but he had no word to describe it. He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to lie still and think. Preferably in the sunlight.

Martha only chuckled. "It has been a long morning, hasn't it? Listen, I made up the spare bedroom upstairs. Why don't you lie down and take a bit of a nap?"

That sounded like a good idea. The room she mentioned was small, the walls painted a pleasant blue, and sunlight streamed in when he opened the curtains. He took off his shoes and lay down on top of the bed, letting his mind drift. It was peaceful, just the right environment for letting his fractured memory return…

…until he heard the older couple arguing downstairs in the kitchen. "Jonathan, that boy saved your life. I can't believe you'd think so ill of him."

"He's a stranger, Martha. We don't know anything at all about him—and if he's telling the truth, neither does he! Of course I'm not gonna drive into town and leave you here with him. What if he suddenly remembers he's not so nice a guy?"

"Nonsense," she scoffed, but he could hear the wavering in her tone.

"And he held that truck up like it was a toy," Jonathan added. "He doesn't even have to mean harm to cause it, as strong as he is. No, you go on to town and pick up those supplies. I'll stick around here. You're probably right, but just in case."

There was a long pause, and then a new, steely note in Martha's voice. "Fine, then. But I swear to you, Jonathan Eben Kent, if I come home and find out you've run that boy out while I was gone, you will never again eat a hot supper, drink a cold beer, or sleep in a warm bed in this house, do you understand me?"

"Go on with you, Martha," Jonathan replied in wounded tones. "The thought never crossed my mind. You're too protective of 'im already, to be jumping at shadows like that."

A few minutes later the truck started up, and then drove out onto the road. He rolled over in bed, clutching his pillow miserably. The last thing he wanted was to cause the two of them to fight. How much they loved each other was readily apparent, even to him, and he disliked being a point of contention. Perhaps it would be better if he simply left, he thought morosely, and then realized that doing so would cause Martha to blame Jonathan, and he couldn't have that.

He fell into a thin, troubled sleep, in which blots of shadow moved through a brilliantly white-gold world, and flowers sang to him in the voice of a woman he loved.

…

Lana didn't like leaving Lois and baby Connor alone at a time like this, but with the phone lines out, she needed to get in touch with her family somehow. They had laid in all the necessary supplies for the new baby weeks ahead of time, so at least she didn't have to run around trying to get those. Although Lois would surely benefit from a little something to pick her up, and Lana needed to talk to Silas anyhow.

The first thing she noticed, pulling up to Main Street, was the camouflage-painted Army trucks parked along the road. Lana's instinct was to turn tail and flee, just run and snatch Lois and Connor up. If they saw her, maybe she could draw them off, warn Lois somehow and drive in the opposite direction to buy the younger woman some time.

That was desperation speaking. Fort Leavenworth wasn't far away, and the tornado had been close enough to cause some damage. These might just be reservists coming to help set things to right, but a panicked flight would get their attention and then Lois' cover would be blown. She had to brazen it out, hope for the best, and if caught, lie so much they wouldn't believe the truth when she finally had to tell it.

Lana parked the car and got out, trying to act casual, which only made her seem hesitant and nervous. But everyone else was still shaken up by the storm, so she wasn't too out of place.

And then she had to walk past two of the soldiers, giving them a studiously casual glance that neither noticed, and saw the poster they were putting up. A wanted poster.

Everyone knew there were three prisons up at Fort Leavenworth. The federal penitentiary had been downgraded recently, and one of the military prisons was also medium security. But the United States Disciplinary Barracks—or the Castle, as it was called—was the only maximum security prison operated by the military, a place designed to hold the most dangerous felons convicted of the most heinous crimes. And if the Army was here tacking up wanted posters, that could only mean it was one of _theirs_. Lana hoped it was one of the less-violent offenders from the Midwest Joint Regional Correctional Facility. She felt very protective of Lois, and very grateful for the strong locks on the doors. Then again, Lana imagined a lot of locks would be turned tonight in Smallville, most of them rusty with disuse.

The storm, the prisoner, and the soldiers' mere presence all seemed like three dark omens tied together. Even if the soldiers weren't here for Lois, they were a danger to her; who knew how many of them might've served with her father? Lana tried not to shiver, ducking into the general store.

Silas immediately drew her attention; the store was packed with people either picking up things they'd forgotten to stock up on—despite the fact that this _was_ Kansas, after all, and tornado damage was to be expected sooner or later—or just there to gossip. "How's Sarah?" he asked.

At least that question could make her smile. "Fine, just fine," Lana said and leaned across the counter to whisper the rest of the news under the guise of giving Silas an affectionate peck on the cheek. "She had the baby. In the middle of the storm, of course. A gorgeous baby boy, Connor."

"That's good news," Silas replied, reining in his delight only because Lana had. Luckily she didn't have to explain the situation to her cousin. He likely thought she was just trying to buy a day or two of relative peace before the well-wishers swarmed them.

"So what's going on?" Lana asked, tipping her head toward the door.

Silas scoffed. "The Castle lost one. According to the poster he's _extremely_ dangerous. They won't even mention what charges he's wanted on, so it's got to be bad. Supposedly he's not all right in the head, either. Delusional or something. I got one of the soldiers talking while the CO was looking the other way. This guy might well walk right up to someone's house in broad daylight."

"Good Lord," Lana murmured, her heart sinking. It _had_ been the Castle, which meant the escaped convict was extremely dangerous indeed. And if he was mentally ill, too, that made it worse.

There were other concerns, especially with that last warning. "Around here, that'll get him _shot_," Lana commented. Many homes, especially on the edges of town and out on the farms, kept a 'varmint gun' behind the back door. That was usually a .22 caliber rifle or a .410 gauge shotgun, used on prowling animals that might kill livestock. Either weapon could be just as lethal if fired at a human being. Prisoner or not, it turned Lana's stomach to think of anyone getting killed in Smallville. Things like that didn't—shouldn't—happen in her hometown.

"That's what I said," Silas replied with a sigh. "They're warning everyone not to engage him, just call the hotline if he's spotted. Probably have 'im inside of a day, with this many men swarming around. They want him _alive_ and unharmed if they can." He shrugged; who could guess why it would be so important to save one fleeing convict?

Lana was certain of one thing. She wasn't going to enjoy bringing Lois this news.

…

Martha was still thoroughly annoyed with Jonathan when she pulled up to the general store. She knew full well that his mulish insistence had more to do with protectiveness than real animosity. He wasn't willing to trust a stranger with the most important things in his life, that was all. No matter how helpful and kind the boy was, Martha suspected he was much more of a stranger than she or Jonathan had guessed.

She missed the wanted poster on her way in, her view blocked by a couple of lollygagging youngsters clustering around it. They only needed a few more things for repairs, and luckily Silas was well-prepared, so he had it all in stock. As she checked out, Martha asked after those members of his family she hadn't seen in a few days—which oddly enough, included Lana. Normally the Senator's wife was very much a part of town life when she was able to be in Smallville, but then, on this particular trip she'd had her hands full taking care of Sarah.

Whatever else she might feel about it, Martha thought it was a sad day when a young woman had to give birth to a child far away from her own family and the baby's father. It was a shame that some people would see her condition as a stain on her parents. Sure, a girl her age ought not to be getting pregnant, but to disdain her and her family was to compound the error, and such contempt was unchristian. Sarah was already going to have enough difficulty added to her life, all thanks to what might have been a moment's lapse in judgment. Of course such lapses could have profound effects, but Sarah was learning that on her own without any disparaging hypocrites glaring down their noses at her for it.

Silas answered her lightly, telling her that she'd missed Lana by less than an hour. He volunteered no further information, but there was a twinkle in his eye that made Martha wonder if he hadn't had some exciting news from the redhead. Sarah _was_ quite far along, and good news was always welcome.

And then he took on a more serious mien, adding, "Have you spoken to one of these soldiers yet, Mrs. Kent?"

"No, I haven't," she replied. She'd noticed the trucks and the young men and women in fatigues, but hadn't paid much attention, assuming they were reservists called out to help deal with storm damage.

"Well then, take a look at one of those posters they've been pasting up," Silas warned. "There's a convict on the loose, escaped from Leavenworth. They're telling everyone to watch out, especially the farms further out. Good clear picture of 'im on the poster, make sure you don't open your door if you see someone like that."

Oh, heavens, just what she needed! As soon as Jonathan got wind of this he'd be baying like a hound about the danger of taking in strays. Never mind that she was certain to the bottom of her soul that the boy they'd found was no prisoner. He was too young, too innocent; the royal blue of his eyes held not a trace of fear or suspicion. Only a sweetness that was very childlike.

Still, she had to take a look for appearances' sake, and Martha found her reading glasses at the bottom of her purse as she walked out with her purchases. The knot of kids was still clustered around the poster, discussing it with the kind of morbid curiosity that often startled their parents. "I bet he's a killer," one boy said.

"Nah, gotta be worse than that, if it says 'use extreme caution'," another boy said, leaning close.

"Well what's worse'n killing people?" the first one asked.

The second had an answer, but at the sight of Martha he flushed deep crimson, and the whole pack of them dissolved away. She shook her head slightly, and adjusted her glasses to peer at the poster.

Once when she was five or six years old, she'd gone to the swimming hole late in the year, when the water was starting to get cold. It had been in the middle of the week, and probably no one else had been there in a few days. She remembered practicing her backstroke from one side to the other, missing the summer in the poignant way of children sent back to school. Minding her own business, not especially worried about being out there alone, or the scolding she'd get for coming home late.

And then something big and cold and slimy had brushed her leg, and it had felt like she hadn't so much swum to the edge as run across the water. Martha knew now, of course, that it had just been a big old catfish, curious about the solitary intruder to its realm. Then, her skin had felt like it was trying to crawl off her body, and she'd shuddered with fear for long minutes after getting out of the water.

She felt like that now. The face on the poster was her boy, right down to the stray curl falling right down the middle of his forehead, those wide blue eyes looking out at her from above words in big block capitals, cautioning her not to engage him at any cost.

…

Lois knew something was up when Lana locked the front door behind her and immediately walked through the house to lock the back door as well. That ticked one dark brow up, the girl's hazel eyes following the redhead's every move while she carefully set her paperback on the coffee table. Oh, yeah. Something was definitely up. "Red?" she called from the couch, but softly—Connor had been asleep for the last hour, cradled on her chest as she'd read.

Her unease only deepened when she heard Lana latching windows as well, even though the day was pretty hot. The first few days it had seemed very odd to leave everything unlocked except at night, but she'd quickly realized that in a small town like this, anyone who tried to break in and steal something would likely get caught within a week, either trying to sell it or for having it themselves. Smallville felt safer to her than most places she'd lived, and Lois was used to having armed men on guard.

Finally Lana came into the room and sat down with her. "We have a problem," she said.

"What _kind_ of problem?" Lois asked, her chill of unease morphing the steel spine of high alert. When someone like Lana said that, you listened. This was a woman who had tried to treat a _tornado_ as a mere obstacle to be worked around.

Lana sighed heavily. "You know we're not that far from Leavenworth, right? Well, a prisoner escaped from there. Possibly armed, probably mentally ill, and definitely dangerous. The town is swarming with soldiers, too."

Lois could only blink at that news. Under normal circumstances, the escaped convict wouldn't have worried her. She had been trained by her father, and had learned how to fight an early age. She didn't doubt herself against most grown men, even if they _were_ armed. Too many people thought a gun made them dangerous, when it was perfectly easy to snatch it away while they were waving it around in a threatening manner. At least, it was easy for someone born with the Lane stubborn courage.

But _Connor_, he couldn't defend himself, and Lois found herself bristling at the notion than anyone might try to come after him. She could almost pity this faceless con, if he picked _this_ house to break into. Lois was certain she'd tear his throat out with her teeth before she'd let him set hands on her baby. Just come and try it…!

Seeing the maternal fury in her face, Lana put a hand on her knee. "We ought to be safe enough, I think. It's those soldiers, Lois. As many as there are, they must think this guy is somewhere nearby, and they won't leave until they have him, or until they get news of him being somewhere else."

Lois realized what she meant immediately, and hunched her shoulders defensively. "_Dammit_! It just figures that it would happen now. I can't risk one of them seeing me. My dad's the Vice Chief of Staff, and we've been stationed all over the place. The odds one of them might recognize me are pretty high, especially if the General passed one that I wasn't touring for one." The bitter fury rose up again, feeling almost like a force-field of heat around her. She wouldn't have put it past him; her father would pull every dirty trick he knew to get what he wanted and she knew he had to be looking.

"That's what I was thinking," Lana said, giving her a sad smile. "The good news is, we _do_ have a plausible excuse for you not to be seen in town for a while. And I think you might just be a bit busy for a little while, anyway." Her sea-green eyes sparkled on those last words, glancing down to Connor.

Lois glanced up at Lana, her brows furrowed, only to catch her gaze and follow it. At some point during their discussion, the baby had woken up and was now staring up at her in rapt silence. It made her chest ache to see just how curiously he peered up at her. Just that quickly, the resentment was blanketed, forgotten. Looking down at him, Lois couldn't help but soften. Her son's eyes never failed to remind her of his father, and she found it difficult to be angry with Kal-El in mind. "Well, little guy, welcome to the life of a fugitive," she said, stroking his cheek, and Connor grabbed onto her finger.

…

The boy was asleep. Jonathan had glanced in at him once or twice, just checking. He slept troubled, twisted around and gripping the pillow tight, but he looked more like a worried child than a grown man. Jonathan was beginning to wonder if he might be a little touched in the head. It might account for Martha's instinctive, immediate protectiveness; she was the sort of person who gravitated toward any kind of wounded creature. He'd lost track of how many injured fawns, fledglings, and other critters she'd nursed back to health. Heck, the one fox she'd found with a broken leg hadn't stopped hanging around the house for over a year after she turned it loose, and _that_ had been full-grown when Martha rescued it!

Something about him still left Jonathan uneasy. Maybe it was the great big question mark he saw in the boy's eyes; not for a second did he think the amnesia was feigned. And that was unusual enough to be a matter of concern. The boy himself was clearly perplexed by it, too.

As for the immense strength he had shown, Jonathan had almost convinced himself it was a fluke. People could do incredible things with a sudden jolt of adrenaline, after all. And those who were a bit slow could often be very strong. Not that the boy seemed particularly _slow_, just childlike in a way. As if every commonplace thing was a source of wonder.

He heard the truck rattle up the drive, and a few moments later Martha came in, looking very distressed. "Now you listen to me," she began, without even letting him ask what was wrong. "I don't believe a _word_ of it, Jonathan, not one single word. If he'd ever done anything like that in his life they'd have put it on the sign. Just because it's his picture doesn't mean what they're saying is true. And I won't let you turn him over to them, don't even think it!"

"Martha, for the love of God, what are you babbling about?" he asked, perplexed. Jonathan had the uncomfortable feeling that he was about to get yelled at, and for all her sweetness Martha Clark Kent had always been a champion yeller. _Something_ had her worked up, that was for sure.

"Those _idiotic_ wanted posters the Army's pasting up all over the town," she huffed, arms crossed and eyes blazing.

Then Jonathan could make the leap. The Army—which administered not one but _two_ prisons up in Fort Leavenworth—was searching for an escaped convict. Just like he'd suspected from the first time he saw that brand-new shirt with the cardboard still in its collar, like the boy hadn't worn ordinary clothes in longer than he could remember.

And the face on the wanted poster was the boy's, which was why Martha was in a lather. She'd convinced herself of his innocence when they knew absolutely _nothing_ about him, and be damned if he was going to harbor a runaway prisoner! Good grief, and she'd tried to talk him into leaving her alone here with the boy! God alone knew what could've happened in his absence. Jonathan's stomach churned just thinking of it. They didn't put petty thieves up in Leavenworth, after all.

"That's it," he snapped, and she tried to grab his sleeve, but he stormed off up the stairs, not even thinking clearly. Later on, he'd realize that if the boy _had_ been some kind of a dangerous ruffian, going to confront him unarmed and in a rage was a very foolish idea. At the moment Jonathan was only conscious of protective anger, and guilt that he'd been duped so far.

Martha called his name, but he ignored her. It'd be worth a month of cold suppers and sleeping on the couch, two months even, to keep her safe. She was just a little too good for this world, a little too willing to believe that her compassion would be returned. He'd once seen her fish a hornet out of the iced tea pitcher with her bare hand and blow on it until its wings dried enough for it to fly away—and then used the fact that she hadn't been stung as justification for such recklessness, when really she'd only been lucky.

Jonathan flung the door open and burst into the spare bedroom … but the accusations died on his lips.

The boy was floating in midair, three feet above the bed.

"Good God Almighty," Jonathan said in a strange, hoarse voice.

Just behind him, Martha called angrily, "Jonathan, don't you dare…!" She fell silent as she came abreast of the door, and saw the boy there, hovering impossibly.

He heard them, one of them, and woke up. Apparently the situation was as much a shock to him as it was to them, because he gave a strangled yelp and promptly fell, making the bedsprings creak in sharp complaint. The next moment, the boy was scrambling off the rumpled coverlet, landing on his rump on the floor and staring at the bed as if _it_ had somehow been the cause.

Only then did he turn to them, confusion bleeding into fear in his eyes. "What's going on?!" he asked plaintively. Jonathan couldn't even answer. This had gone far beyond worrying about _who_ the boy was. Now he was starting to wonder _what_ he was.

Martha only crossed her arms, leaned against the door frame, and said in acid tones, "You still think he's some runaway from Leavenworth, Mr. Know-It-All?"


	49. Out There Somewhere

**I should hear some screaming at the end of this chapter. We might be heading into something that's been HEAVILY requested soon. ;) But I'm just guessing.**

* * *

Jonathan had finally accepted that the boy was _not_ an escaped prisoner from Leavenworth. Which was fortunate, because Martha had started calling him 'Clark', and he knew full well that once she named a living thing, she meant to keep it. That she'd chosen her own maiden name just made it more obvious.

That didn't change the fact that the boy's face was plastered all over the town. He had to reject Martha's initial plan of telling people her cousin's son was visiting. Not even a haircut and an old pair of Jonathan's glasses would make an adequate disguise. They had to hide him, and that would've been more difficult if they didn't grow most of their own food and have plenty stored away. Young men ate a _lot_, and someone would've noticed the Kents hauling home twice the groceries. Luckily he was content with the bounty of their garden, though the pantry and freezer were starting to look less well-stocked. And Martha, glad of his appreciation, was baking almost daily to feed his sweet tooth.

There were more disquieting ramifications. Since the boy _wasn't_ a prisoner, the Army had to want him for some reason. Maybe something to do with the fact that he was incredibly strong, incredibly fast—as he'd proved catching a glass Jonathan dropped all the way across the room—and could apparently _hover_, but only when he wasn't thinking about it. Jonathan felt uncomfortably like he was living in a Stephen King movie he'd seen once, with a little girl who could do miraculous and dangerous things. And a whole bunch of shady government types hunting her. In the film there had been a kindly old farm couple who'd given the girl and her dad shelter.

Jonathan was also aware that the husband of the kindly couple had gotten shot in the film. But he also wasn't about to let a bunch of soldiers trot onto his land and yank someone off his property without a warrant. And the boy, now that he let himself grow to know him, deserved to be protected. Whatever the Army had going on, Clark was an innocent in all senses of the world.

There was a charming boyishness about him, and the open delight he showed in almost everything was infectious. Whether it was the simple miracle of a flower opening, or the pattern of fox tracks in the soft mud at the edge of the pond, or even just the bright spots of color that shone through the sun-catchers Martha had hung on the bay window, Clark seemed to fall in love with every new thing he encountered. Such open-armed joy couldn't be resisted. It was like he'd never been outside before, never done _anything_.

Some of that was probably the amnesia, but Jonathan got the feeling that the boy really didn't have much experience of the world. Some people would be shy, frightened by so much newness. Others would turn bitter; Jonathan had seen that often enough, the instinctive resistance to change and novelty that made men hard-hearted and stubborn. Clark had none of that. He wanted to embrace the whole world and love every second of it.

He worked like a demon, too. Jonathan only had to show him how to nail up one board, and then Clark gleefully replaced all the damaged ones in the outbuildings in the course of one day, a job that would've taken Jonathan at least a weekend to complete. He hummed while he worked—and he must've had a radio, wherever they'd kept him, because the songs he hummed were familiar. Martha liked to sing while she cleaned, and Clark picked up on her favorite songs, too, singing them pitch-perfect after one hearing. He picked up on cleaning, too, and he thought it was _fun_ to scrub the baseboards and the crown molding. Heck, he could reach the latter just by standing on tiptoe. Martha even let him wash her precious china that had been handed down from her grandmother, once he'd proven his delicate touch with the ordinary plates.

Odd, that for all that strength and air of inexperience, Clark wasn't clumsy. Distracted, sometimes, though downright graceful when he paid attention. Jonathan would've expected him to clomp through the house like a young ox, but he took an almost exaggerated care around anything fragile. Jonathan saw why when they were cutting up the fallen branches for firewood.

A simple mistake. Clark had been steadying the branch while Jonathan cut it with the chainsaw, and Clark's ball cap had blown off. He reached to grab it, missed, grabbed again, and Jonathan had jerked the saw back when he saw how close Clark's hand was to it. Before he could shout a warning, the hat dropped onto the saw and was flung aside with a new nick in its rim. Clark grabbed the saw itself.

Jonathan automatically cut the power, dropped the saw, and grabbed for the handkerchief in his pocket, ready to tie a tourniquet around the boy's arm. But what should've been mangled fingers was just an ordinary hand … and the saw's chain was in pieces. "Um," Clark said, with a woebegone look.

"Huh. So I guess we can add invulnerability to your list of quirks," Jonathan had said with more aplomb than he felt. Calling them quirks seemed less intimidating than saying _powers_, although superhuman powers was certainly what they were. And Clark was torn about them. On the one hand he was proud as any young man might be of his abilities; on the other he was almost embarrassed by them, since they marked his otherness so clearly. At times he reminded Jonathan of a dog he'd once owned, a lurcher, half farm collie and half greyhound. When the pup had been old enough to finally get all four feet moving in the same direction and in some kind of cohesive rhythm, he'd been fast as greased lightning. Nothing was as pure an example of joy as watching that dog light out for the horizon … and nothing was as apologetic as the expression on the same dog's face when he turned up back at the house after going missing for two days, having outrun his knowledge of the territory. It must've been something, to have an engine running like that inside and not be able to quite control it.

Jonathan was nonchalant about Clark's abilities to make him more comfortable, showing him how to put a new chain on the saw. And then they cut up the rest of the downed tree limbs, though at Jonathan's gentle suggestion Clark simply snapped a few of the branches to length. Only the ones that were less than a foot thick, though.

They went inside for a hearty lunch, salad and leftover baked chicken. As always, Clark set to with a will, drinking glass after glass of milk alongside it. "Thank you, Ma," he said when she set a stack of cookies on his napkin. "This chicken is even better the second day."

She laughed, and patted his shoulder. "Why thank you, son," she said.

Meanwhile Jonathan wondered when she'd become Ma instead of Mrs. Kent. He suspected the easy way his wife said 'son' might have something to do with it. Clark tended to call _him_ by the respectful 'sir' … but come to think of it, that's what he'd always called his own father. While he was looking thoughtfully at the boy, Clark beamed a quick grin at him, the easy smile that so often graced his features, and Jonathan felt something that had little to do with conscious thought decide that yes, this one would make a fine son. Strength tempered by kindness, handsomeness softened by a total unawareness of his own looks, friendly courtesy and a willingness to help: what more could a father want?

Well, besides knowing who on earth the boy really _was_, and where he'd come from, and how he managed to do the amazing things he could do.

The radio was on, and between songs there was a few minutes' worth of talk. Local updates, the weather forecast, and then news of the wider world. When the broadcaster said, "No new word from New Krypton," though, Clark reacted as he had to nothing else.

All of a sudden he'd gone from sitting at the table to standing up, staring at the radio with a fierce intensity. The boy was almost trembling, and with that powerful a reaction Jonathan wondered for a brief moment if he might have actually _been_ a soldier.

"What is it, Clark?" Martha asked.

The boy blinked. "Nothing. I … all of a sudden I remembered all those people on that planet out there. I'd forgotten that, too." He sat back down, looking sheepish, and cleaned his plate studiously.

Jonathan just watched him, aware that Clark had just lied to them for the first time, but not sure why.

…

The soldiers were still hanging around Smallville like a stubborn stain, their target uncaught. They were now making systematic searches of abandoned buildings around town and in neighboring areas. And Lois was going predictably stir-crazy.

Even with a two-week-old infant demanding the majority of her time and attention, Lois was restless and curious. She did about as well being cooped up in the house as a certain well-bred working collie of Lana's former acquaintance. The dog, which had belonged to a friend's family back in high school, had been injured and forced to rest as an indoor companion for several months. To an animal accustomed to patrolling a large acreage, moving livestock, chasing vermin, and occasionally following the kids on long horseback rides and camping trips, it had most likely been a short season in Hell. Lana remembered one day toward the end of the dog's convalescence when she and her friend had come home late to find him on top of the refrigerator. To this day she had no idea how he'd managed _that_.

Lois would probably start running up the walls soon. The weather didn't help, high summer in the Midwest bringing the endless whine of crickets and cicadas, dull heat thudding down during the day and slacking off a little at night with a breeze. Impossibly wide blue skies and all sorts of things that Lois might actually like to get out and _do_, but she couldn't risk being seen. Not even when they were invited out to lunch at dozens of houses by people who wanted to coo over baby Connor, whose birth during the storm was already becoming a front-porch classic tale.

At least one thing had alleviated her boredom a little: at the news of the escaped prisoner, Pete had finally come out to Kansas and brought his security detail with him, for added protection. Lois had rolled her eyes at the pair of them when he walked through the door, picked Lana up, and swung her around twice, Lana yelping in protest that was only half-felt. The younger woman was kind enough to plead exhaustion and go to bed early, which let them go to bed early.

It _was_ very good to have him home again.

…

The next day Lois had set about picking his brain, much to Pete's amusement. She knew he and Lana couldn't discuss anything critical when they talked on the phone or online, nothing that might make anyone listening in suspect that they had anything to do with her disappearance. So Lois had been starved for news. Pete wasn't privy to everything the military was up to, but he had spent his time in Congress making friends on both sides of the aisle. He knew that more humans had been smuggled back to Earth, which Lois knew had been planned and had told Lana about. But the most momentous development shocked them both.

"There's been an attempted coup, possibly more than one," Pete said, swirling lemonade in a tall glass beaded with condensation. "We're deep into their systems that we can monitor a lot of their holographic communications, not just what's transmitted back and forth to our internet. And it was your boy's uncle, Zor-El, who tried to kill the Supreme Chancellor."

A bright spark of hope flared in Lois' chest, then faded. For one minute she'd almost believed … but then she knew better. "He failed," she said softly. So it really _had_ started; the first casualty in the rising unrest had been Kal-El's uncle. The thought brought tears to her eyes. In some ways, Lois felt as though she herself was responsible for the loss. Maybe if she hadn't involved Kal-El, hadn't taunted Zor-El that night, it would have been someone else. But then, stroking the fine black hair on Connor's head protectively, she couldn't find herself regretting a moment of her time on New Krypton. Any moment she spent with her son's father.

And in that instant something else occurred to her, like a finger of ice down her spine. "What about Alura and Kara? And Kal-El's parents? Are they all okay?"

"Alura repudiated him over a month before the attack. She's safe, and now working within the Council itself. We suspect she may have joined the Rebellion. An awful lot of information comes our way now. But there's more." Lois sighed in relief, but there was no respite.

Pete looked away, out the big front window toward the lawn edged with flowers he and Lana had to have planted together. A peaceful little world, here, but _little_. And now he and Lana were involved with something much, much bigger. The reason why would've dumbfounded quite a few of his colleagues on Capitol Hill, and most of the people Lois knew as well. It was, quite simply, the right thing to do.

"What else?" Lois asked, leaning forward in her impatience. Connor mumbled at the jostling, and she quickly soothed him, but her eyes stayed fixed on Pete.

He was looking worried. "Trouble on New Krypton. New ordinances, new restrictions. New warships. Someone decided to do something bold, and evacuated the last of the hostages all at once. No smuggling, either, they built a _ship_ in secret. It landed in China … wow, probably the same time that little guy was making his debut."

"How on earth could anyone build a ship in secret?" Lana wondered.

"There were ways," Lois said, thinking. "They hadn't completely terraformed the planet yet, so they weren't using most of its surface. Someone smart, someone adventurous, could've found a place where no one else would conceivably go. And there were Kryptonians like that. It's mostly the older generation who were hidebound. The younger ones, the ones who never set foot on Old Krypton, _they_ might try something like that."

"We don't know who piloted the ship," Pete said. "The military does, but they're treating it as top-secret. And the pilot isn't in custody, either. They're going nuts, every one of my contacts' contacts is in full lockdown—they call it maximum pucker factor. I have no idea how they're conducting a search in _China_, but they're doing it somehow. The last thing they want is for a Kryptonian to get killed on Earth. That'd really damage chances of peace with whatever regime comes after Zod."

Lois flared her nostrils. Neither of them had any idea how creepy the Supreme Chancellor was. Lois had never even met him in person and the sound of his name made her skin crawl. Probably in part because he'd likely have her incinerated if he ever found out about the hybrid baby in her arms.

Speaking of men who disapproved of her choices…. "Exactly how deep is my father in all of this?" Lois asked.

Pete and Lana shared a look, and Lois just arched an eyebrow. "That deep, huh?"

Finally Pete said, "Lois, he's the vice chief of staff, and he's _personally_ headed the project that receives the returning hostages. He's about as deep as it gets. One good thing, though. None of my contacts ever mentioned so much as a hint about him looking for you."

"Good," Lana said decisively.

"I still don't like having the military in town," Pete said. "Even if these are the MPs from Fort Leavenworth and not the regular infantry you would've been around most of the time, it just feels like a clock ticking toward countdown. But we can't get you _out_, either, Lois. There are roadblocks and searches all over eastern Kansas. Whoever this guy is, they want him _bad_."

Lois scowled, squeezing Connor just a little closer. She'd outrun one danger just by staying free this long: her father couldn't force her to have an abortion once her son was _born_. But he could still try to take Connor away … and he might do it, too, even though he _had_ to know she'd do her damnedest to claw his eyes out before she let it happen.

One way or another, she had to get out of his reach.

…

General Lane knew his daughter's undaunted will very well. He felt the steel of it at the bottom of his own soul every day. What he couldn't understand was how the _hell _one naïve alien was managing to hide from him. He had men on the ground all over the eastern half of Kansas, checking every empty building, roadblocks everywhere within three hours' drive of the crash site … and still nothing to show for it.

They'd found the crash site before any curious yokel with a camera phone, thank God. He hadn't even needed to use his backup plan for containing the event. Forget weather balloons and Russian satellites. The best way to hide a UFO these days was put some soldiers around in cheap rubber masks and weird-looking suits, then a couple more in plainclothes with videocameras or scripts. Make sure at least one was a good-looking woman in tight-fitting civvies, and anyone who stumbled on the scene would think 'movie set' before 'alien invasion'.

The site itself had been deserted, way out in the middle of some fields, and first the storms, then the supposed prisoner search, kept people from wandering from their homes. They'd had it all to themselves and hauled every single scrap away—except for one thing: the pilot.

Some of his aides speculated that the boy might be dead. Either injured in the crash and crawled off somewhere, or succumbed to one of the Earth microbes the Kryptonians at the salt mine were so paranoid about. Sam didn't believe it for an instant. There'd been blood on the ship's console, ceiling, and door, but not a mortal amount. And the blood trail leading away disappeared quickly. Search dogs tried valiantly to follow the scent, but storm runoff and roads had slowed them.

Sam had a great deal of respect for those dogs and their handlers. When the girls were still little, he'd adopted a retired shepherd named Nero who'd been a search dog. Damned smart animal, by the end of the first week he could ask the dog, 'Where's Ella?' and be guided straight to his wife, or ask for the girls by name and get taken to them. He wasn't a pet, he was the guardian of the family and their property, and when they had to ship out overseas and leave him behind both girls had cried. Hell, Sam had shed a tear or two himself. He'd made sure Nero went to a family who would take good care of him, and they'd had four years. More than most military families got in one place.

So he knew, when the dog teams had trailed for over eighteen miles and come up dry, that it wasn't their fault. The alien had to've masked his scent somehow, and the obvious way would be by getting into a vehicle. He might've climbed into the bed of a briefly parked pickup truck, or hitched a ride somehow. He certainly _looked_ human enough, and people in this area were trusting. The boy might've already slipped through the net Sam was trying to draw tight around him.

But consider: the trail was eighteen miles long, and the alien was injured. He could not have covered those miles as fast as Sam himself could. Assume a walking pace, because they'd found no indications that he'd fled at speed. Most of the time he'd been going through cultivated fields, turning along roads only at the last stretch. So, three miles an hour? Maybe as little as two, in places. Anywhere between six and nine hours walking, while Sam's team was getting into position. Road blocks had been in place within two hours, and Sam had set the spacing generously, based on the assumption that the alien might acquire a car and drive it at maximum speed. Once they knew that he'd been walking through fields for hours—be generous, assume a fast walk of four miles per hour, and it _still_ meant he was on foot for at least four and a half hours—it was impossible that he could've gotten beyond the roadblocks.

Unfortunately, no one could maintain roadblocks on major highways for more than a day. Vehicles were traveling freely again, but the posters were up in every truck stop and rest area. There was a handsome reward for information, too. _Someone_ would've seen the alien if he'd traveled. Therefore, he was still somewhere in the irregular rectangle marked out on Sam's map. _Somewhere_ in those five or six counties was one otherwise ordinary-looking teenage boy, who might cause a major diplomatic incident by getting his naïve self shot. Or falling down a well, or getting attacked by some farmer's dogs, or even just sleeping in wet clothes and getting hypothermia. New Krypton had far fewer natural hazards than Earth.

General Lane was hoping that he was lying low in an empty barn somewhere. If the alien had found shelter with some civilian, he might've convinced them to hide him. It was a possibility Sam had to consider; the damned boy _was_ charming enough to have bedded his daughter.

They couldn't simply start kicking doors in. There had to be some reasonable suspicion of the alien's presence to make a search lawful. While within the Army itself certain rights and rules were suspended for the sake of expediency, when dealing with the general public and _not_ in a state or martial law, they had to be more cautious. The very freedoms they fought to protect were part of the reason why the boy remained hidden, and the paradox gave Sam a moment of sardonic amusement.

He'd find him, sooner or later. The posters were everywhere, there were generous rewards on offer, and the alien couldn't get far without human help. Sooner or later, human nature would be a reliable ally. Someone would turn him in—out of fear of the false story, or greed for the reward money. Soon they'd have him safely in custody.

…

Memory was a funny thing. He remembered pale green skies, a painted canyon, clothes much thinner than the soft woven stuff he had on, cars that flew in the air. And faces, so many faces, none of them with names. A woman, the recollection of whom made his chest tighten. And a bearded man whose image sent chills into his heart.

Words for things always came to him in Jonathan and Martha's language, English. All the common everyday objects he knew now. And when they gave him a word he lacked, he could feel its rightness as something he'd known before. But now he was getting terms in another tongue. He understood the meaning of _kehgier_ as a verb meaning to make, to cause, sometimes to do, and he could even conjugate it properly. But it had come to his mind as part of an idiom, and he knew somehow that it was not a word in any language these people had ever heard of. He also knew the names for things he saw in his dreams in the same foreign languages. The structures he saw in those dreams looked more grown than built, and were made of crystal, not wood or brick; they were different enough that he couldn't call them houses even in his mind. They were _rurrelahso_, a word he would've translated as buildings or dwellings.

Alone in his room, he pushed all those thoughts away and focused on the one thing that gave him comfort. Neither Jonathan nor Martha had ever seen it: a simple crystal necklace, which had been wearing wrapped around his forearm underneath his shirt when they found him. What it _meant_, he couldn't quite remember, but it was important. And it had something to do with the woman whose face he saw in dreams, the one whose name he'd spoken when he first met Jonathan and Martha. _Lois._

He held the necklace carefully wrapped about his hand while he slept. Maybe if he was lucky, the sense of its meaning would return to him in the same haunting dreams that teased his mind with glimpses of his forgotten past.

* * *

**_And to those who lack the courage  
And say it's dangerous to try  
Well they just don't know  
That love eternal will not be denied_**

I know you're out there somewhere  
Somewhere, somewhere  
I know you're out there somewhere  
Somewhere you can hear my voice  
I know I'll find you somehow  
Somehow, somehow  
I know I'll find you somehow  
And somehow I'll return again to you

~The Moody Blues, _I Know You're Out There Somewhere_  
[Yes, _**LS**_ readers, you DO know this song! ;)]


	50. Slipping Within One's Grasp

Things are starting to even out over here a little bit, but the last week has been another crazy one, so I was falling asleep as we closed this out last night. Sorry it's late, but here's hoping it's worth it. ;)

* * *

Clark knew what to do when the truck pulled up in the yard. Ma and Pa Kent had talked it over, and they'd made a plan. First, all of them had to watch out. Clark was always listening for vehicles approaching on the road, and whenever one came along he made sure to get out of sight. Once there he was to listen and watch. If it was just company, he would stay hidden until they left, either up in his room or in the storm cellar or in the barn outside, whichever had been more convenient to bolt into.

If it was soldiers, the older couple would contrive some kind of warning, which he could hear from anywhere on the immediate property. Then he had to play a careful game of hide and seek, because they would be _thorough_ in hunting him. Clark always had in mind a running list of the best hiding spots in and around the barn for just such occasions. It was a paranoid mindset, but necessary.

So when he heard the engine on the road while he was cutting up one of the downed trees for firewood later in the year, he stopped and listened, wiping sawdust from his hands. The engine slowed as it dropped to a lower gear, and he picked up the unused axe to drive it through the last round of wood, then left it sticking in the stump while he trotted toward the barn. Now it looked like Jonathan had been cutting the wood, instead of someone who could do it twice as fast with just the edge of his hand.

Clark hid himself up in the haymow, his ears trained on the yard at the end driveway just in front of the house—what Ma and Pa called the dooryard. Sure enough, the truck pulled in and parked there. He had learned to differentiate engines by sound after a couple weeks of paying such close attention to them, and this one was a big eight-cylinder diesel. All power, no subtlety. Probably a big truck, possibly the sort of thing that groups of soldiers were transported in.

If only he could _see_ it! Clark stared at the old barn boards a few feet away from his face. Just dull, weathered wood, unpainted on the inside and long ago faded to a silvery gray. There was a knot in one board, slightly darker than the rest. He could see the grain of the wood, where the tree it had once been laid down different layers as it grew. And each of those layers was made up of cells, sheathed in a protective coating called cellulose, one of the chief differences between animal and vegetable life being the cellulose walls around the cells…

…and inside each cell he could now see the various structures, chloroplasts and mitochondria floating in the cytoplasm, and the nucleus with its chromosomes….

The names for those things arrived in his mind in two languages, one of which had just enough familiar terms that he knew it was English. But Ma and Pa Kent hadn't spoken to him of vacuoles or nuclear membranes, this was knowledge from before his injury, something he'd studied. Clark was pretty sure none of these structures were supposed to be visible to the naked eye.

He blinked, and saw the molecules making up the DNA of the chromosomes, then blinked again and saw _through_ the barn wall. The cells that made up the layers of wood that made up the boards were a ghostlike haze, and now he squinted at the image beyond, bringing it into focus. Not a clue _how_ he was doing this, it must be a new one of his 'quirks' as the Kents so kindly called them, and then Clark's train of thought jumped the tracks because _yes_, that was a big camouflaged truck parked in front of the house, and uniformed soldiers were getting out of it.

A voice in the back of his head yelled something, and the English translation took a beat. _Consulars!_ But what did that mean, and why did he fear it? Or them, whoever the Consulars were. Even repeating the term in the privacy of his own mind sent a chill down his spine, though that warded-off portion of his brain was insisting that they should have been wearing black.

The men spoke with Jonathan, who stalled him, standing on the front porch and arguing about his rights. Martha came out a moment later, exclaiming about all the soldiers and scolding one for almost treading on her flower garden. That was the warning they were trying to give Clark, and would they check amidst the hay? He thought so.

The Kents would be in trouble if they were discovered to have hidden him. Clark turned with grim determination, needing to get far away and fast before the search even began. There were too many men to try playing cat-and-mouse, slipping into spots they'd already searched. Better if he were _gone_, entirely outside the scope of their search.

Luckily there was no immediate evidence in the house of his presence. His clothes were always neatly folded away in a large cedar chest, as if in storage, convenience sacrificed for safety. His toothbrush always got dried and put away in the medicine cabinet, his bed was always made as if kept ready for guests, and on the whole he had left precious little mark on the house.

He hurried to the ladder while the leader of the soldiers talked to Pa, who was doing an excellent impression of a thick-headed mule-stubborn old fool. Clark grinned to himself to hear it; Jonathan Kent was determined, and tenacious, but never a fool, despite what his wife might've muttered about him. Even Clark understood that the older man was just being protective—and at the time, he couldn't remember enough about _himself_ to reassure them that he was trustworthy.

Clark slid to the ground and slipped out the back of the barn, watching the soldiers' progress as they fanned out. He had to be careful not to leave tracks, but he was lucky in that regard. Those little 'quirks' came in handy, as he was learning. A single running stride, and then he leapt, covering several dozen yards. He landed only to leap again, broadening the distance. This was something he'd discovered while trying to burn off excess energy, and though he hadn't perfected it, at least Clark wasn't crashing into trees anymore.

And that was only near the house and outbuildings. Once within the sheltering cornfield, Clark really opened up both the strength and speed, pushing it beyond where he'd taken it in the past. He had to be careful not to rise so high that he'd be seen above the towering plants, but his leaps could cover an astounding distance. It was stunning, to him, to realize he could do these things; they seemed impossible, against the laws of physics, almost as if he was undergoing some kind of supernatural transformation. And all from a knock in the head that scrambled his memory? No, _something_ decidedly weird was going on.

But Clark didn't focus on that. He didn't feel like a freak, not until he did something like this, kicking off the loose soil and covering hundreds of yards before he landed again. Careful, though, careful, if he landed too hard he'd leave a crater behind him. So he ran and leaped lightly, springing through the large field in a matter of moments.

Now the woods, avoiding the thickest brush, and once far enough in he took a slight risk. Clark crouched, staring up at a tall cottonwood tree, and sprang straight up from a standing start. He landed fifty feet up on a branch just a shade too narrow, one that swayed alarmingly under his weight, but he clutched the tree trunk and got one foot onto another branch in time to stabilize himself. His perch left him far from the farm, but with a moment's concentration he could hear the soldiers searching for him.

And climbing trees was _not_ normal for him. Somehow he knew that boys tended to do this, but he never had. The whole tree shifted in the wind, and he couldn't help gripping the bark tightly in sweaty hands whenever it did. Clark felt a brief panic at the thought of getting _down_ again, before remembering that he could just drop and not get hurt. _What __**am**__ I?_ he thought to himself, half-confused and half-despairing. _Or what am I __**becoming**__?_

Lots of things that were everyday for Ma and Pa were wholly new to him. Like planting seedlings, harvesting fruits and vegetables, even opening a door latch. He knew what a tomato was and that it would taste good, but he'd never eaten one before apparently, because he'd bitten down like he had with his first apple, and the juice had sprayed into his eyes. Ma had laughed, and so had Clark at the time, but later he wondered. People who grew up in cities might not know how to pluck berries from their brambles, but surely _everyone_ knew how to eat a tomato? Or open a window? Or button a shirt, for crying out loud?

That was one of Jonathan's expressions, and it had been Jonathan who found him struggling to pull a button-down shirt over his head and frowning with frustration that it was too tight. The warm affection Pa had shown him—tinged with amusement, true, but still kind—lingered in Clark's mind. Jonathan Kent was not his father, but he was becoming quite fatherly. He couldn't remember much about his father, just a sense that the man was very wise and very serious, and Jonathan's more casual demeanor was welcome.

The search never even got near the woods where Clark was hiding. Soldiers started to comb through the fields, but the heat and the silence discouraged them. Among the rows of corn especially, the men could be mere feet away from each other and not be able to clearly see or hear their counterparts. If it was really a convict they were searching for, the man might've had the sense to lie up somewhere in the cornrows. Or to hide in the woods, for that matter. But not this high up, and he certainly wouldn't be able to see the searchers through the thick foliage.

Clark watched them finish their task and trudge back. In a few more moments he could head back…

…but should he?

Ma and Pa Kent would be in trouble if he was found on their land. No matter what the _real_ reason for the manhunt was, they would be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive. They had been too kind to him for Clark to repay them so shabbily. Now that he was out of the house, out of sight, he probably ought to just keep going. His speed and strength and other little quirks were increasing almost daily; sooner or later he'd have nothing to fear from the Army or anyone else. He could spot anyone tracking him before they got close enough to know he was there, and even if he did get spotted, he could outrun them easily. Really, it would be best for everyone if he went…

…but Martha would be heartbroken. Clark saw the love shining in her eyes, and knew she thought of him as a son. In this brief time they had bonded so closely that he felt she was family to him, too. She had certainly stood up for him from moment one, believed in him despite every evidence of his strangeness, and not once had she feared him or been angry with him. Unconditional love, that was very parental.

If he just up and _left_, Ma would worry. She'd fret herself to pieces wondering if the soldiers caught him. Pa would worry, too. The older man's initial mistrust had only been protectiveness, but now he was just as protective of Clark. He'd feel guilty for the rocky start between them, probably blame himself, thinking that if he'd been more careful the soldiers wouldn't have caught Clark—or if he'd been kinder from the beginning, Clark wouldn't have left.

No, he couldn't do that to them. Or to himself. Clark didn't know much, but he knew he had no one in this world. Everyone he met would be a stranger, and everyone for miles was primed to think of him as some kind of violent criminal.

That wasn't true. He was certain of that much. Clark had the sense that everything he was missing was _somewhere_ in his head, but he couldn't get at it. So far the things he'd remembered were linked to things he'd experienced since the injury, as if his memory needed a little jump-start. What he needed to do was lie low, be patient, stay hidden, and let those connections keep forming. Eventually he'd get enough bits of memory back to make a cohesive whole. It would take time and patience, but he had plenty of both.

Once he was absolutely certain the soldiers were gone, Clark walked back to the house. He hugged Martha as soon as he walked in, not telling her that he'd thought of just keeping on. Maybe she knew, because she hugged him back extra-tight, and served his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream after dinner.

…

"Lana, if I don't get out of this house, I'm going to start clawing the wallpaper," Lois said flatly. The three of them were sitting down to breakfast; Connor was sleeping peacefully after having his own breakfast.

"Isn't that supposed to be the curtains?" Pete said in friendly tones. Both women stared at him, and he lowered his newspaper to smile. "That's what cats do when you lock them in the house. Claw the wallpaper, tip over the trash, run around the house at two in the morning and jump on you while you're sleeping."

Lois arched a dark eyebrow, and Lana sighed. "Lois, _please_ don't take that as a suggestion."

The younger woman couldn't help chuckling at that mental image; despite Lana's strait-laced reputation, she _really_ didn't want to try jumping on the happily reunited couple in the wee hours of the morning. Besides, it might wake up Connor, and every moment he slept was precious. Good thing Lois was already used to sleeping lightly. What years of living on base and listening for incoming orders hadn't done, months on New Krypton listening for Consulars kicking in the door had accomplished.

"Really, though, there's got to be _somewhere_ we can take Lois where we won't run into soldiers," Pete offered.

Lana sighed. "Nowhere in town. I've overheard them talking about searching the outlying farms, too."

"Maybe we can just go for a drive out in the country?" Pete offered.

"As long as we don't hit a roadblock," Lana warned.

Lois threw her head back and groaned loudly. "_God!_ I'm almost to the point of _calling_ my dad. Connor's already born, and I doubt Dad would be dumb enough to try and take him away now that a U.S. Senator _and_ a highly-placed newspaper editor know about him." She was half-convincing herself as she spoke.

Pete reached out and took her hand. "Lois, honey, we can't be optimistic. Let's face facts. Connor's _father_ is Kryptonian. Your dad would jump at the chance to send him 'home' to a planet he's never seen—and if the revolution on New Krypton has its way, they might just accept him. I mean, he is half Kryptonian."

Lois winced. "Actually I think they might freak out. A lot."

"Well, yeah. Bad enough the other half is human. But they wouldn't want him _raised_ by humans. It's not as bad as it used to be, but I do know a couple things about prejudice." Pete winked, not without a touch of irony, and tipped his head toward the fair-skinned redhead he'd married.

Sighing, Lois asked, "Hey Pete? Yeah, okay, I understand where you're coming from, but … you were grown in your mom's womb, right?"

He startled a bit at that, and after a pause said, "Well, yeah. Isn't everyone?"

"There's your problem right there," Lois said with a nervous laugh, sweeping a pointing finger through the air to aim right at him. "See, _no one_ on New Krypton was. They have these things called birthing matrices. You take a DNA sample from both parents, put it in the matrix, and it grows you up a baby. No muss, no fuss, no three hours of grunting sweating active labor. Kryptonians don't _do_ things like that."

Pete just stared at her. "Wow. Well. I guess they must have really good contraception, then."

A flush rose to Lois' cheek, but she was too much a Lane to back down just because she was beginning to feel flustered. Instead she upped the ante. "Yep. If you call being so phobic of touch that married couples holding hands in public is considered flagrantly deviant behavior. They don't have sex, Pete. If his people found out about Connor … they'd probably disown Kal-El. Or at the very least send him off for lots of psychological evaluation and treatment."

Pete just blinked, stunned, but it was Lana who shook her head and muttered, "You lost me at 'they don't have sex'. How on Earth could you get married and _not_…? Why would you … not _ever_?"

As Pete chuckled, Lois tried not to blush. "On Earth is kinda the point, Red. Krypton had a huge plague about a thousand years ago, and the only ones who survived were the people who had absolutely no contact with anyone who might've been infected. It took them a long time to actually defeat the virus. Now it's ingrained in the culture."

"But not in the biology, or little Connor wouldn't be here," Pete mused, and then Lois _did_ blush.

…

Kansas kept tickling at Sam's mind. At first he thought it was because of Leavenworth; he'd sent a man there, once or twice. But no, that wasn't it. Something about the place kept drawing his attention, something that goaded him to make the search for the alien more urgent. The frustrating thing was, he couldn't figure out _why_ that little intuition kept nagging him. And no matter how much he trusted his gut instincts, General Lane couldn't declare martial law based on a hunch.

It was driving him nuts, not knowing, and so Sam flung himself into work as a distraction. He had two major operations running at the same time, and one of them was covert, so work was easy to come by. Sorting through the phone records from pay phones around the _Daily Planet_ and Perry-White's home was tedious, but it had to be done. And his subordinates respected him more for getting down in the trenches with them.

The search went slowly, and Sam could barely leash his frustration as he slogged through it. All the while he waited for news of the on-the-ground search in Kansas.

And again that little tickle in the back of his brain! Sam flung down the call list in front of him, and tried to remember everything he knew about Kansas. Capital was Topeka, largest city was Wichita, 15th largest state and 33rd most populous. Officially opened to settlement in 1854, so hotly contested over the slavery issue that it was known as Bleeding Kansas, eventually joined the Union as a free state in 1861. All but four counties were in the Central time zone, it was located dead center between the coasts, and it contained both the geographic center of the 48 contiguous states as well as the geodetic center of the continent. States bordering it were Nebraska, Missouri, Oklahoma, and Colorado. Politically it was a relatively progressive state, despite having a Republican party monopoly on congressional seats that kept it more socially conservative…

…wait. There was that little tickle again. What did he know about elected officials in Kansas?

All of a sudden it hit General Lane. The junior senator, Pete Ross, had just returned to his hometown of Smallville, which was within the search area. Sam's troops on the ground were being particularly cautious with the senator in town, and he'd sighed over the report. Just one more congressman getting in his way, that had been his thought at the time.

But. One of the calls made from a pay phone just outside Perry White's place had been to a Kansas area code. He'd had all the numbers logged for the location their area codes lead to, even knowing that lots of people had cell phones with area codes from faraway places. No sense in changing a phone number you'd had when you lived in New York when you moved to Florida, not when free long distance and roaming were part of most mobile plans. Sam scrambled through the lists, hunting for that Kansas area code.

It was 913, which a quick online search told him was the eastern part of the state. Where Smallville was located. And why had Senator Ross gone home to Smallville? That was in a report somewhere, too.

He found it. His wife had gone home seven months beforehand, and he went to join her. Seven months. Right around the time Lois had disappeared in Metropolis. It was all circumstantial, but it looked plausible. Even better, it _felt_ like he'd found the key to getting his daughter back.

Mad Dog Lane stormed out of his office with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Get me the next flight to Kansas. I'm taking over the ground search. While I'm in the air I want a complete report on Senator Peter Ross, his wife, and their movements over the last seven months. _Move_!"

It had not escaped him that the father of Lois' child was in the area, too. At all costs he had to keep them from finding one another.

…

"Clark, sweetheart, we're having company for dinner," Ma said, rubbing his shoulder gently. "I'm so sorry. It feels so wrong to ask you to hide up in your room…."

"But everyone in town thinks I'm a dangerous escaped prisoner. I'll be okay, Ma. Just sneak me some biscuits." He smiled, despite the little ache in his chest. Clark was naturally sociable, and to hide from people made him feel obscurely ashamed.

She kissed his cheek, and smiled sadly. "Well, Jonathan thinks he might be able to talk them around a bit. We might have some allies here. But we have to be very careful, for your safety, son."

"Of course," he told her. Clark tried to act like nothing was wrong until the dinner hour neared, and then headed up to his room with a copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_. The Kents had a decent assortment of classic literature, and he was working his way through it at a good pace.

The story engrossed him, and he barely paid attention to the sound of a car arriving, then unfamiliar voices in the front hall. People were moving around downstairs, making the typical greeting small talk, most of which was about the tornado. He heard a woman say something about spending it in a basement, which got chuckles from Ma and Pa. That was the last Clark noticed for a while; he was too tightly wrapped up in the story, turning each page with bated breath as the mob assembled to lynch Tom Robinson. The three kids were just showing up in the midst of the dangerous scene and…

…from downstairs, a young woman's laugh, the sound floating up the stairwell and under his door and through his ear into his brain like a bolt of lightning.

The book tumbled to the coverlet, and Clark jumped up from the bed, every sense on the alert. _That voice!_ He knew that voice! Before he could think he was out the door, springing halfway down the stairs in a single bound, his hands shaking. He froze there, staring.

In the living room, Ma and Pa looked up at him in dismay, Martha's mouth dropping open into a shocked expression. On the couch across from them were a man and a woman, both of them widening their eyes in horror. But in the chair beside them…

His heart leaped, a heavy physical _thump_ that resounded in his chest. "_Lois?_" he said, his voice cracking.

Beautiful hazel eyes, the expression in them completely stunned—but no fear, not fear of him like the strangers or fear for him like the Kents. Just recognition and utter surprise at it.

Jonathan had stood up, and stretched a hand toward the frightened couple. Clark knew his next words would be something like, _He isn't who you think he is,_ or something to that effect. But the girl rose, her eyes still locked on his, and in a trembling voice she said, "Kal-El…?"

_His name_. The associations flicked into place, memories blurring into thought. He saw his father's hair, prematurely white, his eyes the same brilliant blue, and the older man's hand on his shoulder, his voice full of pride, '_You are a credit to the House of El, my son_'. Kal-El, son of Jor-El, a noble scion of one of Krypton's greatest families. One of the generation who had never seen Old Krypton, born on the great transport ships, for whom New Krypton was home. Son of his mother, as well, Lara who had been born into the House of Van, the wise historian and gentle parent. The one who had been kind to a bristly human teenager, who had brought a birthday gift on no notice for the girl whom her son had become so fond of, and who still did not quite know how deep his affection for that young woman ran. A love that had led him to treason, to plotting against Supreme Chancellor Zod in secret, and when events forced his hand, he had committed to open defiance. He had piloted the ship that evacuated the last of the human hostages from New Krypton, and he had dropped them off before trying to fly a circuit of this world … a flight that by amazing coincidence or destiny or fate had ended in a crash landing _within walking distance of the woman for love of whom he had done all of it_.

That young woman was staring at him as if he were some kind of ghost, while he blinked and tried to process the information. Kal-El came down the steps carefully, and for a moment no one else in the world existed. "Lois," he said again, his voice certain and full of warmth. "By Rao, Lois, what are you _doing_ here?"

That seemed to snap her out of her bemusement, and she scoffed. "I could ask you the same thing! Dammit, Kal-El, when the hell did you get _here_?!"

Even that sharp tone was beloved, and he crossed the room in an eye-blink, sweeping her into his arms. Lois yipped in surprise, but flung her arms around his neck and squeezed. "I thought I might never see you again," he murmured.

"Yeah, right. Like I'd let anyone keep me away." Lois' voice was half-smothered by the way she pressed her face into his neck. Kal-El drew back, cupped her jaw in his hands, and could not straighten out the amazement-shock-wonder from the rapidly returning memories. So he kissed her, long and thoroughly, enough that Lois had to bend back a little—but she had one hand wrapped in his hair and absolutely no intentions of letting him go ever again.

"Well, apparently you two know each other," Martha said, flustered.

Lana laughed. "Oh, you have _no_ idea. Wait until she shows him Connor."

* * *

Okay, so this is probably the part where I explain that the amnesia subplot existed for a reason. It was there to fast-track Kal-El's trust in humanity, to give us a chance to see who he was for a moment without the fetters of Kryptonian mores to hinder him, and to see just how much of his Earth obsession and knowledge would stick by him. It was also a way to give him a semi-clean slate to meet and bond with the Kents.

Did it work? Maybe. You be the judge. We've had several people question us on the choice and now seemed like a good time to address it.

There are also several ways amnesia is handled in fiction and although this may or may not have been on-point, we tried to make it as realistic as we could while still using the device to our own ends. We're not doctors; just researchers to an extent. Unlike Kal-El, we're only human and as fallible as Lois' intuition where baby girls are concerned. ;)

So yay! That's over with for the most part. Everyone rejoice!


	51. And Nothing is What It Seems

All right, I've replaced the message with the new chapter. All is getting back to normal over here finally, although the odd sad moment strikes hard and quickly. But we're marching on. New chapter and we're back to the usual schedule, except for the occasional vacation. The brother-in-law will be down the last week of October and we may have to break then, but yeah. Back to the usual.

THANK YOU to all of you for all of the love and messages and good wishes. There were days that these messages were all that got us through, believe me. It was very rough at times. To know that you guys were here for us is a huge blessings and we love all of you for it.

That said, AT LONG LAST, one of the scenes you were waiting for!

* * *

"Get me a description on this Sarah Blodgett _immediately_," Sam growled. He'd read enough. Perry White had broken a story on Congressional misappropriation of funds a couple years ago, never naming his source. And Pete Ross was known to be an absolutely scrupulous senator, never taking a bribe, pouring part of his salary back into charities and community programs in DC as well as back home in Kansas. Just the kind of squeaky-clean do-gooder who'd bring a scandal to the attention of a newsman like Perry White, who had his own reputation for uncompromising honestly.

The description wasn't easy to find, and they were on final approach before it came in. They had to rely on secondhand accounts, as none of the ground troops had set eyes on the girl. And wasn't that telling, in a town this size, suggesting that she had deliberately avoided them?

A teenage girl, dark-haired, light-eyed … _heavily pregnant_. "Gotcha," Sam muttered, and grinned fiercely. The moment they landed, he called together his strike team. "Quick, clean, precise," he barked. "These are civilians, and I don't want a damn senator nipping at my heels for the rest of his term. They know damn well who they're hiding, so they probably won't make much fuss. We go in, take what's ours, and get back out. Not a single weapon lowered, not even a voice raised—you're just there to look impressive, you understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!" came the prompt response.

"Good. Now, the target's apt to put up a fight, but you leave her to me. I've got prior knowledge of the situation." And on that note, they moved out into one of General Lane's typical strategically-planned and surgically-executed strike maneuvers.

He was furious to find the Rosses and their fugitive weren't at home.

…

This was the best of all possible surprises. Lois' heart leapt at the sight of Kal-El, and it was no wonder that they were lip-locked moments later. When they finally came up for air, she gave Kal-El's hair an emphatic yank. "Now answer me, dammit. _How the hell did you get here?_"

He laughed indulgently, nuzzling his nose against hers for a second. God, how she'd missed that laugh! "The Consulars were getting too close; we were on the brink of being discovered. I had built a ship, just in case, and I brought the last of the humans home from New Krypton. Lois, there are no more hostages—all of your people are back on Earth where they belong. I detached the passenger module of the ship in Huang's country before trying to fly a survey of your planet, and crash-landing near here."

"Holy shit," she muttered, stunned.

Lana and Martha both cleared their throats at the same time in response to that blasphemy, and the happy couple finally remembered they were not alone. The other four were staring at them with varying degrees of patience. Kal-El turned toward the Kents, his arm sliding around Lois' shoulders automatically. "I remember, now. Ma, Pa, I am Kal-El, of Krypton, scion of the House of El."

"Of … Krypton," Martha said faintly, her eyes wide. Apparently she hadn't known before now, and there was more to tell her.

"He's on our side," Lois added quickly. "He's part of the Rebellion against Supreme Chancellor Zod. And my name's not Sarah. It's Lois Lane. I was one of the hostages on New Krypton and part of the human Resistance." She could feel sorry for the Kents; this was a whole lot to digest.

"And this story about an escaped prisoner from Leavenworth is just a smokescreen," Pete supplied. "It's _you_ they're hunting, Kal-El."

"I know," he said. All the pieces were coming together now, he and Lois filling things in for everyone. "I didn't know _why_, though. Until I saw Lois, I didn't know who I was or remember anything from before the crash. I must've sustained a head injury on impact."

By then, Jonathan was looking across at the two newcomers, still stunned. "We wanted to see if we could talk someone into realizing he wasn't some kind of dangerous criminal. I figured if anyone from town knew about not judging at book by its cover, it'd be you two."

Kal-El glanced at the Rosses, who looked slightly less shocked than the Kents, and raised an eyebrow at Lois. She caught on—he wouldn't know them. "Kal-El, this is Pete and Lana Ross. He's a Senator. My dad wanted to keep me under lock and key, so I ran away and made it to Metropolis. I told the whole story to a newspaper editor there, Perry White, and he hid me with the Rosses. I've been here in Smallville for the last seven months."

"And you might want to tell him _why_," Lana said, with a little smile.

Lois actually blushed, which earned her a look of plain surprise from Kal-El. "Um, yeah, about that," she mumbled, raking a hand through her hair. "So, uh, my dad was really pissed at me when I got home…."

This right here? This was the most awkward moment of her life.

…

That made no sense to Kal-El. "Why? Lois, you're a founding member of the Resistance. I don't even know how much information you passed on to him. How could he be angry at you?" Kal-El scowled; he truly did not understand Lois' father.

"I kinda brought home a souvenir," she said, wincing, and glanced toward the couch where Pete and Lana were sitting. At some sort of carrying basket, to which Kal-El had paid no attention. Now he looked more closely.

There was a small human infant asleep in it, wrapped in pale blue blankets, one tiny thumb held loosely between perfectly-shaped lips. Kal-El cocked his head, still not understanding, until Lois managed to whisper, "He's your son, Kal-El. I … I named him Connor."

His son.

_His __**son**_.

Their secret union had borne fruit; Kal-El and Lois had a child together, this perfect little boy slumbering on unawares of the fact that his existence was turning his father's world upside more effectively than the tornado that had made his ship crash. His _son_, his son out of Lois Lane, a child of the mingled blood of Krypton and Earth. Connor … it would be Kon-El, in Kryptonian nomenclature, a new entry in the legacy of the House of El.

Eyes fixed on the baby, Kal-El reached for Lois and tugged her close against his side. "We have a son," he said, in shocked tones.

"Yes," she murmured, tucking her face against his shoulder.

"I'm a father." No matter how many ways he tried to fit that knowledge into his brain, it kept stunning him anew.

"Yes, you are."

"You … you gave birth to my child."

"In a basement during a tornado, yeah."

He blinked at that. She had to mean the big storm that everyone had been talking about ever since it happened. And that meant…. "Lois, I crashed the ship during that tornado. Not far from here. I walked to where the Kents found me, just a few miles outside town."

She pulled back, staring at him. "You … I wanted you there with me so much, and you were almost here. Almost."

He tore his eyes away from the baby to look down into her hazel ones. "It must have been fate," Kal-El said. "To bring me so close to you, when you needed me most. And fated again that the two of us from different worlds could even be compatible enough to produce a child."

"Never doubt the power of love," Lana said quietly.

At that moment, Pa cleared his throat. "So the boy I've been calling 'son' these last couple weeks is from Krypton, he's a freedom fighter, his girlfriend is a spy, and he's a father, too. Jumpin' Jehoshaphat, Clark, you sure give new meaning to hidden depths!" Somehow his tone was more disbelievingly amused than scolding, though Kal-El winced anyway.

"I'm sorry, Pa," he said. "I would've told you if I remembered … if I'd _known_! Lois, if I had even guessed you were pregnant, I never would've let you leave New Krypton without me." He turned worried eyes on her.

Lois just grinned. "Hey, I didn't know either. Not like either of us thought it was a possibility. And can I just say how _weird_ it is to hear you using so many contractions?"

He shrugged one shoulder with a chuckle. "Oh, you have _no_ idea. I've been going by Clark for these last few weeks. No one ever guessed I was anything but human. Not only did I talk the talk, I've walked the walk. Feeding chickens and chopping firewood…"

"…and wearing plaid," she laughed, tugging his shirt. "The lumberjack look is good to you, Kal-El. But I bet it's a far cry from Kryptonian biologist."

And that was a reminder of just how _strange _all of this should've felt. Yet oddly, it hadn't. He had done things as a matter of course that would horrify any Kryptonian; mucking out the chicken coop would've thrown most of his kind into convulsions. Considering that his people on this planet kept themselves sequestered from any form of potential contamination with mechanized suits and hermetically-sealed buildings … and somewhere in that contrast was probably the reason for these strange quirks he'd been developing.

"This calls for a drink," Jonathan announced, getting up.

Ma normally _tsk_ed at any alcohol being consumed before sundown, but she didn't even look at Jonathan askance when he returned with a bottle of bourbon and several ancient shot glasses. In fact, she took one herself, still staring at Lois and the baby. And at Kal-El himself. He didn't like the look in her eyes, as if she'd never seen him before, when she'd kissed his cheek and hugged him every day.

"Are you all right, Ma?" he asked.

She laughed, the sound almost rusty. "It's a lot to get my mind around, Clark. A _lot_. I knew you were special, but … this is more than even I imagined."

He couldn't help laughing softly. Tipping his head toward Connor, Kal-El said, "_This_ is more than I ever would've dreamed, Ma. But it's the best kind of surprise."

"So are you, son," Pa said then, and a flush of pride warmed his heart. On those words, everyone except Lois drank a quick toast to the happy couple's reunion.

…

Lois' head was still spinning. She'd never, ever expected to find Kal-El here in the Kents' house. Martha and Jonathan seemed like your typical friendly small-town couple, not the sort of folks you'd expect to be hiding a rebellious son of Krypton in their attic. And when she realized the 'dangerous prisoner' the Army was hunting was actually Kal-El … if her father had been standing in front of her right then, she might've throttled him.

Luckily there were sweeter things to contemplate. Such as the Rosses and Kents filling each other in, and Martha and Jonathan being properly impressed by the determination and luck that got Lois here. Of course, Lana and Pete were equally delighted by how Kal-El had assimilated to human culture. Lois eyed the redhead, wondering what she'd expected. The average person on the street probably knew very little about Kryptonians and the vast differences between their cultures. Lana had been told that the two of them becoming lovers would be a glaring aberration, but she couldn't have guessed how surreal it was to see him cradling Connor as if he'd been holding babies all his life.

Any fears Lois might have had—that Kal-El would be horrified at their unplanned offspring, or God forbid that he might've doubted Connor's parentage given the odds on interspecies breeding—had dissolved instantly. He had taken the big leap and plainly adored their son.

_Their son_. It was still almost as much of a head-trip for her as it had been for him, and _she'd_ given birth to Connor.

The day's revelations weren't done yet, though. "Clark … I mean, Kal-El," Martha said, stumbling over the unfamiliar name.

The new father had been seated in the chair and was holding Connor, still absolutely rapt. The look of wonder on his face touched Lois' heart in a thousand ways. He did manage to drag his attention away from the baby to beam at Martha. "Either one works, Ma. You were saying?"

"Do you think … maybe being from Krypton has something to do with your little, um, quirks?" She spoke delicately and cautiously, which of course piqued Lois' interest. Quirks, huh? So maybe they had noticed the cultural disconnect.

"Probably," Kal-El said. Conner had woken up, and waved a baby fist at his father, immediately securing his concentration again. Lois sat on the edge of the chair and stroked the back of his neck, where his hair was growing out. Kal-El grinned up at her, his eyes agleam. "I can't quite believe it. Lois, I never dreamed … wow. He's just … he's perfect."

"Yeah, yeah he is," she chuckled. She turned to Martha with narrowed eyes, wanting to ask about those quirks; clearly Kal-El wasn't going to be useful for anything that required more than a few seconds of his time.

Except he butted into the conversation then, catching Lois' knee with what looked like alarm. "Great Rao, Lois, we're not married!"

She couldn't help dissolving into giggles, thoroughly distracted. "You hadn't noticed before now?"

"No, I mean … we have a _child_ but we're not _married_ yet. Connor cannot be confirmed as an heir to the House of El until we are. We need to get that taken care of, right away."

Lana cleared her throat delicately. "Not for a couple more months." All of them turned to look at her; Lois was still boggled by that matter-of-fact proposal. _From Scotty Bracewell's car to spy games to motherhood to interplanetary marriage in just over a year … damn, no wonder I keep feeling like I'm three steps behind and running to catch up!_

Meanwhile Kal-El was just confused. "Why not?" he asked.

"Because Lois is seventeen years old, and in Kansas, you can't marry under the age of eighteen without parental consent—and I doubt General Lane is going to agree," Pete said, giving his wife an affectionate glance. Lois got the feeling they had trod this same path in their own history. Pete looked at Kal-El then, quirking up an eyebrow. "Not to mention, you not having a legal identity on this planet might present some difficulties in getting a marriage license."

…

"Oh," Kal-El said, regretfully. For a moment, he'd forgotten that this wasn't Krypton, where his identity could be instantly established by retinal scan. Earth required documents, documents that he didn't possess and had no means of acquiring.

Lois' age was another issue. Marriages on Krypton were planned out long in advance, sometimes years before the ceremony finally took place. There was no stigma in waiting five years or more to be wedded; better to be sure of compatibility than to have to go through all the unpleasant legal maneuvering to dissolve the union. By the time everything was settled, age generally wasn't an issue—and his people had generally treated Lois a legal adult even if the conversion of Old Krypton to New Krypton to Earth years might leave her falling a bit short of that. She was old enough to be a founding member of the Resistance and a mother, therefore she ought to be responsible and wise enough to be a wife.

He hadn't really thought about all the ramifications of it, and looked guiltily at Lois. She just rolled her eyes. "By the way, real romantic proposal there, Romeo."

"I'm sorry," he said, looking downcast. He met Connor's gaze, bright blue eyes full of amazement. That gave him the strength to speak again. "I just … Lois, I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and raise our son together. Whether it's on your planet or mine doesn't matter, because my home is where our family is. And where I come from, marriage is an expected part of that. In some cases, it's as much contract negotiation as romance."

"I love you, too," Lois said, kissing his temple. "Red's right, though, most places you can't get married until you're eighteen. And we've still got a few months 'til October. Besides, there's a few more pressing matters to talk about besides marriage."

"Like General Lane," said Pete.

"And the Resistance and Rebellion," Kal-El sighed. He glanced down at Connor again, and jostled him lightly. "I'd rather be planning a wedding than a war. It'd be much better, don't you think, son?"

Jonathan and Pete both chuckled, which Kal-El found odd … until he was distracting by Connor, who responded to the gentle swaying with a gurgling sound. Not the same baby noises he'd been making, and Kal-El frowned, looking at him.

Lois, however, swooped in, grabbing the infant out of his hands a scant second before Connor burped up a messy string of saliva and milk. She had a soft cloth in one hand, the function of which Kal-El hadn't guessed at, and now wiped the baby's mouth with it. "Look out, Kal-El, babies leak from both ends," she quipped. And then seeing the look on his face, Lois laughed. "This is just a little spit-up, relax."

Connor chose that moment to burble again, bringing up more of his most recent meal, and Lois' twisted in wry amusement. "You're gonna need the baby wipes," Lana said, reaching into the bag beside her. Whatever she was looking for wasn't there, and the redhead stood up. "I must've left them in the car. Two minutes."

…

Meanwhile Lois dabbed at Connor's chin, and spoke soothingly to him. "Who's got a fussy tummy? You do, baby boy, but it's gonna be all right. Yeah, it's gonna be fine." Connor grinned; babies his age weren't supposed to be able to smile, that expression was supposedly just gas, but Lois didn't believe it.

A thought occurred to her, and she turned to Kal-El. "What was that about quirks?" she asked, expecting that it was some odd Kryptonian habit of his.

Just at that moment, Lana burst back in the front door, slamming it behind her and throwing the chain. Her green eyes were wild, a look of stark panic in them. "_They're here!_"

Everyone lunged to their feet. _They_ could only be the soldiers, and the hammering at the front door backed that up. Cold terror slithered in Lois' belly; those men thought Kal-El was an escaped prisoner. They had guns. They'd turn on him … he had started for Lana, and she yelled at him to follow her.

"The truck's out back," Jonathan barked, and Lois instinctively turned toward the kitchen, meaning to flee to it with Connor in her arms. And any soldiers between her and that potential route to safety, well, just because both arms were holding her baby didn't mean she'd forgotten how to snap-kick a man in the teeth.

No chance, no time, because Daddy was there, filling up the kitchen doorway, two soldiers coming in behind him with rifles pointed at the ceiling. His hard blue eyes flicked over her, and then over Connor, and Lois saw the rage and _disgust_ there. It stiffened her spine, and she felt her lips curling back like an angry dog's. "How _dare_ you…!" was all she managed to spit at him.

"You're coming with me," General Lane thundered, and reached for her shoulder.

Suddenly Kal-El was between them, brushing her father's wrist out of the way with a casual flick of his own hand. How the _hell_ had he done that, gotten there so fast? "No sir, she will not," he declared, drawing himself up to his full height.

Sam Lane bristled too, and Lois saw him sneer, knew that whatever he was about to say, it would set a new record for condescending … and it would probably start with _son_. Sure enough, he barked, "Son, you're coming with us too…."

Kal-El cut him off, taking another step into his personal space. "We will do no such thing," he insisted, and the slang was gone. That was the formal diction of New Krypton, with a trace of their accent, and he looked and sounded like what he was: a noble son of an alien race, proud and unbowed before someone who had no authority to deny him. Lois felt her heart swell.

And then she saw the two soldiers behind her father react to the evident threat by leveling their weapons at Kal-El. "_**HOLD!**_" the general roared, real fear in his eyes.

Lois had time to wonder if he was afraid they'd shoot Kal-El—that would wreck their chances of peace with the Kryptonians—or just afraid that the civilians in the room behind him would get caught in the crossfire, Lois included. She was already turning, shielding Connor with her own body, and Martha Kent's startled cry sounded like a bird rising in frightened flight.

Kal-El simply grasped one rifle barrel in each hand, and calmly turned them upward as if they were made of modeling clay, the heavy steel groaning in protest. The two soldiers goggled at him, completely at a loss, and Sam's eyes jittered as he tried to track both barrels.

Everyone fell silent at that, and Lois saw her father's face go chalk-white. She could feel her eyes bugging out. How the actual _fuck_ had he done _that_?!

Into the stunned silence, Kal-El spoke with calm, measured tones. "We need to talk, General Lane. About your daughter, and our son, and the fact that I intend to marry her. But we also need to talk about the effects of Earth's undiluted atmosphere on Kryptonians." He smiled, and it was not a friendly smile, more wintry than any expression Lois had ever seen on his face. "It wouldn't do for the rest of my kind to realize just what kinds of _quirks_ we develop on your planet."


End file.
